The Times They Are A-Changin'
by Kat A. Klysmic
Summary: Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers have always been the best of friends through thick and thin, but in the wake of the Winter Soldier's rehabilitation, something in their relationship begins to shift. It all begins with a wedding. Fluff. Post AoU, pre-CW. Stucky.
1. It Began with a Wedding

**Author's Note:** Well, I've been bit hard by the Marvel bug of late, what with Civil War coming out next month, and I just HAD to write a Stucky fic. Nevermind that I have a million other things to be doing 8'D

 **First:** This fic has a playlist on 8tracks! The name is the same as the fic's, and my username is JolieMariella, so give it a listen! ;D

 **Second:** Despite being mostly fluff, this fic is already rather long, haha, 26k and counting from publishing, though I am close to finishing. So, look forward to it!

 **Third:** Please make sure to leave a comment if you enjoyed! They really do help me keep up the drive to write! Knowing that other people are out there enjoying something I've put hours and hours of my life into is kind of a big deal and lets me know I'm not just typing into the void here, hah.

 **Fourth:** Thanks so much to my sister and Beta, nighttimelights (nighttimesounds on tumblr). Goodness knows she's got more than enough on her plate, but she still helps me out, and I super appreciate that.

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 **The Times They Are A Changin'**

Chapter One: It began with a wedding

The spring day was bright and clear as Steve strode down a busy street in the heart of New York City. It was still early enough in the season that he kept his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, though not quite cold enough to merit gloves or a hat warmer than his favorite blue baseball cap.

He stopped at a small coffee shop and stepped inside. The girl behind the register smiled at him, and he responded in kind.

"What can I get for you today?" She asked brightly as she pushed a lock of long, dark hair back out of her face.

Steve glanced up at the menu board mounted behind the counter for a moment, seeming to mull over his options before eventually saying, "I'll take a sixteen ounce latte with an extra shot, and-" he paused, frowning absently before looking back down at the girl and asking, "What kind of drip coffee do you have?"

"Oh loads; exotic brews are our speciality!" The barista said so perkily that the man wondered if maybe she hadn't been drinking a few too many cups of coffee herself. Still, he supposed it came with the territory.

Before he could make any sort of reply, the young woman began listing off a rather impressive array of options.

"We have Rwanda rushashi, Bolivia caranavi, Columbia huila, Mexico chiapas, french roast, trieste caffe-"

Steve held up a hand to stop her before the girl ran out of fingers to count the types out on.

"Uh, how about you pick?" He suggested with a chuckle "So long as it's a dark coffee, it'll be fine."

The barista blinked at him in surprise, then broke out into a broad smile. "Sure! What size would you like on that one?"

"Better make it a twenty ounce," Steve mused as he thought of the drink's intended recipient, a small smile playing across his features.

"Right, so that's a medium latte with an extra shot, and a large trieste caffe drip coffee," the woman repeated as her fingers danced across the keys of the register and rang up the total. Steve paid in cash, then stepped along the bar to wait for his order, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

His drinks appeared in short order, but when he went to grab them, he felt a little seed of dread take root and blossom in his gut. He recognized the look the girl behind the bar was giving him, and it rarely portended anything good.

"Hey, you look kinda familiar," she began, compelling Steve to drag the bill of his cap down to block her view of his face.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. Just have one of those faces, I guess," He said briskly with a noncommittal smile and shoved a few dollars into the tip jar on the counter before grabbing his drinks. "Thanks," he called back to the baffled woman as he nabbed a few sugar packets and a stir stick, then hurried out the door into the brisk spring air.

Steve's long stride carried him quickly across the street and down several city blocks before he turned and ventured into the depths of Central Park. This time of year, the trees were covered in the soft, green haze of new growth, and a few early blooming flowers were already starting to crop up around the path he walked down.

On a bench in the distance sat a familiar figure, just where Steve had left him several minutes earlier, and the first Avenger found himself picking up his pace a little as the end of his quest came into view.

Bucky Barnes sat on the bench, apparently watching the large group of people gathering in the grassy clearing across the way. Chairs had been set up in neat, orderly lines, and at their head was a white picket arch that several women were arranging flowers and garlands on. They appeared to be at the end of their task, though, and already others were gathering and beginning to take their seats.

A less experienced man might have thought that he'd gotten the drop on the former Winter Soldier, but Steve knew better. Even from this angle he could tell that his friend was on edge; what was more, he knew there was someone coming up behind him. He didn't move or tense in any fashion to give this away, but still, Cap knew. He also recognized the moment Bucky registered that it was a friend approaching, as something about the air around him changed and relaxed subtly.

Though he couldn't see his friend's face, Steve knew that he had entered what Natasha started calling Bucky's 'Winter Soldier screen-saver mode'. He hadn't found the joke particularly funny, but he had to admit that it was an apt description of the stoic silences his friend often lapsed into, particularly when no one else was around.

It had taken him nearly two years to track his oldest friend down after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., even with Sam's help. The Winter Soldier had lead them on a merry chase across the world before they'd cornered him, and capturing him had proved even more difficult.

Still, they'd succeeded and brought Bucky back to the new Avenger's compound in the wake of Ultron's defeat. Though they hadn't realized it at the time, that was when the hard part began.

The rehabilitation of the Winter Soldier back into the man known as Bucky Barnes was a slow, agonizing process for everyone involved. Slowly but surely, though, the friend Steve had thought he'd lost that day in the alps over seventy years ago was coming back to him.

Bucky still had his moments when he would look around and obviously have no idea where he was, or what he was doing, but they were becoming more and more infrequent with time, as was his propensity for reacting with violence when he 'blanked', as the team had come to call it. He had gotten to the point that he would come on short missions with them, though never 'officially', as an Avenger. Bucky's existence among them was a closely guarded secret, even from Tony.

Steve still wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't told Stark about Bucky. It was a gut feeling he was working off of, and those feelings had never lead him astray in the past. Something was coming. It felt like a war; sometimes Steve felt as though he could smell it on the breeze. That old familiar scent of gunpowder and smoke, of blood and fear.

For now, though, his focus was all on his oldest friend. Rehabilitation had progressed from getting Bucky to a point that he could get through a day without relapsing and trying to kill everyone in his general vicinity, to introducing him to the twenty-first century via carefully planned outings to experience the strange new world he had awoken in.

It was fun and oddly therapeutic for Steve to walk someone else down the same confusing road he'd had to tread himself just a few years previous. Pop culture, technology, recent history...it was a lot to take in, and Cap was dead set on making it at least a little easier for Bucky to adjust than it had been for him.

"Here," Steve said, lightly tapping his friend's shoulder with the bottom of the paper cup of coffee he'd brought for the man.

Bucky looked around at the cup, and then up at Steve himself, a rare smile flashing across his features as the heady scent of fresh brewed coffee caught his nose.

"Thanks," he said and reached up with a hand to accept the beverage, then asked, "Did you remember the-" several packets of sugar and a stir stick immediately followed the cup, and a small, amused snort escaped Bucky as he accepted them.

"Just who do you think you're talking to?" Steve teased him as he took a seat on the bench next to his friend, a boyish grin on his face. He took a sip of his latte as Bucky popped the lid off his drink, then proceeded to empty all four sugar packets into the cup and stir it all together. The resulting garbage was wadded up and tossed with effortless precision into a nearby bin before the lid was returned to its place, and the coffee tested.

A grateful sigh escaped the former soldier after his first sip, making Steve smile again.

"That good?" He asked between sips of his own drink, pulling his eyes from the unfolding wedding ceremony. People still appeared to be finding their seats while a dj, stationed off to one side, played some filler music to signal those who hadn't noticed that the event was about to begin.

"Not bad," Bucky said with a nod, pushing absently at a stray strand of hair that had escaped the half ponytail he'd dragged it into that morning at Natasha's suggestion.

Sam had made distressed, disapproving sounds at the 'demi-manbun' the spy inflicted on their teammate, but Romanov had told him to stuff it, and she wasn't the type one argued with on a whim. Even Bucky had picked up that lesson quick once he was recovered enough to keep his days straight.

"What is it?" The dark haired man asked as he glanced down at the cup, as though he might find the answer printed on the lid.

Steve frowned a little as he tried to recall the list of gibberish the barista had parroted at him while placing his order.

"A...trieste caffe?" He replied after a moment, face screwed up in his uncertainty. His memory was generally impeccable, but he actually doubted whether or not he remembered correctly for a change.

Bucky arched a brow at him "Did you just make that up?" He asked and took another sip.

"No!" Steve objected "I'm pretty sure that's what she said it was called."

"Wow, and here I thought that super soldier serum was supposed to enhance your brain as _well_ as your muscles," the other man drawled.

"Hey, come on," Steve grumbled, shoving Bucky lightly with one arm "At least _I_ know how to work the tv remote," he shot back.

The dark haired man turned sharply to look at him, eyes narrowed as he took in his friend's teasing grin. "I can too work the remote, punk!"

"Sure, Buck, whatever you say," Steve said, turning his gaze back to the wedding as he tried and failed to suppress his smile.

Bucky grumbled resentfully under his breath, though he lacked the high ground to actually argue the point.

An unusual side effect of Winter Soldier's Hydra brainwashing was that certain skills had been programmed into his subconscious, even as memories and conscious thoughts had been thoroughly repressed. Such skills included working with modern technology, and even Hydra's own hyper-advanced tech, piloting any number of aircraft, and who _knew_ what else. The odd part, though, was that Bucky could only occasionally remember any of these skills. They had found, through trial and error, that the less he thought about it, the more easily a task came to him.

Hence how he could competently fly an apache helicopter one day, and be completely baffled by a tv remote the next. He was quickly learning the basics, though, and Steve wouldn't be able to tease him on the matter much longer.

"The city's change a lot," Bucky observed out of the blue. His attention on the distant patch of skyline visible over the surrounding trees.

"Well, it has been seventy years, Buck," Steve mused, cup of coffee cradled gently in his large hands to warm them against the chill air.

"Yeah," his friend admitted and took a drink of his obtusely named beverage. "Still smells the same as ever, though," he added after a moment. "Like piss and cars and old hot dogs."

Steve threw his head back and laughed, his reaction bringing a smile to Bucky's face once more.

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, the man admitted, "Yeah, well, I guess some things never change. The world has to have _some_ constants."

"New York City's unique odor being one of them," Bucky added with a snort.

The music at the little wedding gathering suddenly changed, and though it wasn't the traditional march playing, people were beginning to walk down the aisle, arm in arm.

"Looks like it's finally starting," Steve remarked aloud, and Bucky grunted in reply. Though his friend feigned disinterest, he could see that he was watching all the same. So, rather than suggest that they move on like he had initially planned, Cap settled back against the bench and watched as well.

The groom stood nervously next to the officiant, hands folded before him as he waited for the last of the wedding party to take their places to either side of him. Then, the last couple stepped up to the head of the aisle, pausing for dramatic effect as everyone turned to look at them, smiles on faces, and cameras flashing. The man was dressed in a white tuxedo, and his partner, an older woman nearing fifty, wore a pale pink dress with her fair hair piled ornately atop her head.

"She's a bit old for him, don't you think?" Bucky remarked as he looked between the woman and the groom, who certainly appeared to be half her age.

Steve glanced at his friend, amusement and surprise flitting across his features. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again before finally making up his mind and saying, "Pretty sure she's not the bride."

"Then who _is_?" Bucky asked, shooting him a skeptical look "Don't tell me they changed up weddings while I was out, too."

"Well," Steve began, a smile pulling at his lips "maybe just a little."

Bucky turned back to the ceremony as his friend nodded in that direction, annoyed by the man's vagary. It was quickly forgotten, though, when the woman in the pink dress stepped to one side, and rather than her partner handing her over to the groom, she took his hand and proffered it to the man in the black tuxedo.

Steve watched as Bucky's expression twisted from annoyance, into confusion, then rapidly ran the gambit from horror to fear and paranoia.

"But they can't-" he began, twisting at the waist to look around, though his companion was unsure what it was he expected to find, other than himself. He had gone pale, and might have jumped up if Steve hadn't placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. Bucky snapped around to look at him, and his friend was taken aback by the array of emotion he saw in the other man's eyes. It was the most worked up he had seen him get in months.

"Deep breath, Buck," Steve said soothingly, suddenly regretting that he hadn't given his friend more of a heads up when he had realized just what sort of wedding they were about to witness.

"But they're-" the former soldier began as his eyes went back to the ceremony, heavy brow furrowed. "But it's-" he tried again, but the world 'illegal' died before it made it past his lips. It occurred to him then that his friend would hardly be sitting by so casually if the union unfolding before them were still illegal. In fact, he doubted the wedding would be occurring in the middle of central park _at all_ , were that still the case.

"It's love, pure and simple," Steve said when Bucky had shut his mouth with an audible snap "The world can never have enough of that, I think."

The smile on Steve's face was warm, and just a little bit wistful, lighting up his blue eyes as he watched the happy couple stand hand-in-hand at the altar. He'd always had a way of saying stuff like that, and it drove Bucky up the wall. It was _so damn sappy_ , but the man was just so _earnest_ about it that you couldn't do anything but agree whole-heartedly. Times like these always left him torn between wanting to punch his friend, and an overwhelming desire to…

The soldier shook himself mentally and turned his attention back to Steve, who was still smiling beneficently at the scene playing out before them.

Though they couldn't hear from where they sat, the wedding officiant seemed to be speaking with great passion to the people gathered before him, and smiling widely at the couple themselves. He went on this way for several minutes as the pair watched, the one relaxed, and the other still on edge, as though he expected the police to show up at any moment. Then, the grooms turned to one another, smiling and perhaps a little tearful (it was difficult to tell at that distance), and kissed. The gesture was sweet, and chaste at first, until the man in the white tux threw his arms around his new husband's neck and dragged him in for something more intimate.

Bucky turned away from the display, attention locked on his coffee to mask the sudden turbulence of emotion that rose within him. He finished his drink off and tossed the cup into the garbage, then pushed himself to his feet and started walking back the way they had come.

Steve didn't seem overly surprised by his actions, and simply followed suit, matching his stride as he allowed his friend a chance to process what they had just seen. He did, however, glance back over his shoulder before they went around a bend in the path, and witnessed the happy couple walking back down the aisle arm-in-arm.

Still smiling to himself, Steve hummed the tune the couple had played in place of their wedding march. The song was unfamiliar to him, but he quite liked it; he would have to try and find out what it was later.

When they came to the edge of the park, Bucky automatically turned left to head back to where they had left the car, but his friend paused.

"Hey, I know we went and saw my old place last time we were down here," he began, bringing Bucky up short. "You want to go find yours?" Cap suggested brightly, clearly entertained by the idea.

Bucky hesitated, and the other man allowed him his moment to mull the decision over. He realized it was a lot to ask of him, so he didn't push it one way or the other.

"Alright, sure," the former soldier said eventually. "I'm curious," he admitted when Steve lit up at his acquiescence, "if that old hole in the wall you used to live in is a million dollar apartment these days, imagine what mine turned into."

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 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Please do drop a comment, I absolutely love them!


	2. Reach for the Sky

**Author's Note:** So I make a joke about Steve's driving in this chapter that I can only attribute to a headcanon post I found on Tumblr awhile back. It was actually backed up by a rather interesting history lesson about how careless the army was about assigning people jeeps during WWII. I wish I could find it again, it was pretty damn hilarious.

Thanks, as per usual, to my sister, nighttimelights for the beta!

Also, make sure to check out the 8tracks playlist that goes with the fic! It shares a title with the fic, and my username there is joliemariella.

Remember to drop a review if you enjoy! I feed them to my voracious muse so I can churn out more fanfic XD Don't let her go hungry!

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 **The Times They Are A Changin'  
** Chapter Two: Reach for the Sky

The pair made their way to the nearest subway station and managed to navigate their way north towards Bucky's old apartment. On the ride, the ex-soldier couldn't help but note the strange dichotomy of the subway system itself. Old and new melded together as they roared through stations that had first been constructed in the early nineteen-hundreds in a train car built in the twenty-first century.

Past and present blurred on that interminable ride, and if he closed his eyes Bucky could pretend it was still 1938 and he was dragging a much smaller Steve Rogers out for a night of dancing.

God, he used to love dancing.

Beside him Steve shifted, and Bucky felt the train lurch and begin to slow as it rolled into the station. Gray eyes opened and looked around warily, as though to check if anyone had noticed his lapse in attention.

Whether Steve had or not, he made no comment, just said "Looks like this is our stop," and made his way to the door.

Bucky followed suit, allowing his taller friend to make a path through the mob of people that thronged on the station platform. It was a stop that hadn't existed back in his day, but as they surfaced at street level, the man found himself wishing it had. It let out only a few blocks from where his apartment had been.

After that initial wistful moment, though, Bucky felt a sense of dread well up within him as he looked around.

"Oh," Steve said aloud as he too took in their surroundings.

'Oh' hardly covered it in Bucky's book. His neighborhood, while not the best, had still been a decent one back in the late thirties. Since then, though, while Steve's apartment in the worst part of the Bronx had skyrocketed in value, his had apparently dropped to the bottom of the barrel.

"You have got to be kidding me," he grumbled and began stalking down the street.

Steve winced, and hurried to catch him up, once again regretting the way all of his suggestions today had thrown his friend into uncomfortable situations.

As they walked, Steve examined the buildings they passed. He remembered many of them, but others had been torn down and replaced in the last seventy years. The dance hall down the street from Bucky's place had been demolished and replaced with a now seedy looking McDonald's, and he was pretty sure that the pub across the way was an adult store of some kind.

Miraculously, the old brown stone Bucky's apartment had been in still stood, but it was run down, with more than one broken window facing the street. A rather unsavory looking group of young men lounged on the stoop, eyeing the pair of them warily where they stood on the opposite side of the street.

Steve's attention was all for Bucky, though, watching the shorter man as he stared at the place he had once called home with an unreadable expression on his face.

Eventually, the ex-soldier said "Let's go," and spun on heel to head back the way they had come.

The blond hurried after once again, following as Bucky, lost in thought, took a detour down a narrow alley, operating on a deeply ingrained habit from decades before when the neighborhood had been a safer place.

"Hey, Buck, I'm sorry about-" Steve began as he matched his friend's pace, an unhappy frown on his face as his words trailed off, unable to quite express just what he was thinking.

Bucky glanced over at him, then shrugged and waved off his concern. "I guess I'm not really surprised. Even back when I lived here the area was on the decline," he admitted reluctantly, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

Despite that knowledge, Steve knew it must still have come as a shock to see the change all at once. He knew that _he_ was surprised by it, and it hadn't even been his home.

"Yeah, well," he began, only to be cut off by a young man stepping in front of them from the shadows of a dumpster.

"Give me your wallets and no one gets hurt," the stranger said, waving a pistol menacingly at them both.

Eyes darting sideways, Steve could see Bucky's frown turn into a scowl, prompting him to reach out and place a hand on the other man's shoulder. His friend tensed at the contact and didn't look around at him, but he did stop his advance towards the boy threatening them with a gun he clearly knew little about.

When he was sure Bucky wasn't about to jump the kid, Steve released his hold on him and put both his hands in the air. His friend huffed in annoyance, but followed his lead all the same.

"Now son, how about you just put that down and we all go our own ways, no harm no foul?" Steve suggested in a calm tone, expression solemn but un-threatening as he made eye contact with their mugger, appearing to pay the gun between them no mind.

"Yeah right," the kid scoffed, jerking the pistol a little as he repeated himself. "Wallets, now."

Bucky twitched, but Steve only carefully lowered his hands and reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet as commanded. His friend shot him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it as he flipped his billfold open and began pulling out his ID and credit cards.

The mugger noticed this and said "Nuh-uh, leave it all in. You don't get to fuckin' pick and choose."

Steve looked up at the other man, still completely calm "Come on, you know I'll have these cards canceled within five minutes of you being on your way. There's a hundred dollars cash in here, plus whatever he has," he said, nodding towards Bucky.

The mugger seemed to think it over for a moment before saying "Fine, whatever, hurry it up."

Bucky himself gave Steve a look that said he was mad, but after a moment, he sighed hugely and pulled out his own wallet, grumbling "This is a new level of stupid, Steve."

The ex-soldier produced thirty-six dollars from his beat-up wallet and passed it to his friend with a fierce glower. Steve added the bills to his own, then closed the billfold and offered it to the boy holding them at gunpoint.

Bucky nearly scoffed aloud when the kid actually stepped forward to take the wallet instead of insisting Steve put it on the ground and back up, making him think that this was probably his first time trying armed robbery. Granted, against a normal civilian, it probably wouldn't have mattered, but the boy could hardly have anticipated Steve's superhuman reflexes. Even Bucky had a hard time tracking what the super-soldier did next.

As their mugger pulled the wallet from Steve's right hand, pistol still held at arms-length (at least, Bucky thought, the idiot wasn't holding it sideways as seemed to be a trend these days), his friend used his left to twist the gun out of his grip and tossed it to Bucky in one fluid movement.

The shorter man caught it deftly with his left hand and ejected the clip, which he then pocketed. Bucky stared their mugger down with dark eyes and a grim expression as he then crushed the pistol into an unusable hunk of twisted metal that he tossed into the nearby dumpster.

The utter look of horror on the boy's face nearly made the whole exchange worth it as he turned tail and fled down the alley without a word. It wasn't until a moment later than he realized the kid had still managed to make off with Steve's wallet and all their cash.

"I cannot _believe_ you just let that kid mug us," Bucky complained as he glared up at Steve.

His friend just shrugged, smile pulling at his lips as he said "Eh, he's just a kid, and that's one more gun off the streets. Leave him be. Don't you remember some of the stuff _we_ got up to at that age?"

Bucky scoffed " _You've_ never mugged anyone in your life."

"Well, no," Steve admitted. "No one who wasn't a Nazi, anyways," he amended after a moment's consideration.

And there it was again, that divisive feeling of wanting to hit Steve, or something else entirely that Bucky could never bring himself to put much thought into.

As usual, he shook it off, then snorted and said, "Come on, let's go. I think I've had enough of New York for the day."

"Sure," Steve said, smiling at him as they started walking again, avoiding taking any further alley shortcuts once they made it out of the first.

The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence on their trip back that wasn't broken until they made it to the car.

As they both got in and buckled up, Steve said "I was thinking we could pick up dinner for everyone on the way back. I think Scott and Hope will be stopping by tonight."

Bucky quirked a brow at his friend as he started the car. It was a habit now, for Steve to ride shotgun when they went out together, because if he _didn't_ ride shot gun, the ex-soldier refused to go anywhere with him. He still had no idea how Steve had managed to land himself a driver's license since waking up in the twenty-first century, but Bucky was utterly convinced he'd never had any sort of driving lessons. He'd been terrible at driving anything bigger than a motorcycle back in their army days; but then, the Army had had so many jeeps on deployment that they'd been willing to throw one at literally anyone. Even kids fresh out of Brooklyn that had never been behind the wheel of anything bigger than a bicycle their entire life.

The running joke in the platoons had been that Americans blew up more jeeps than Nazis did.

Natasha seemed to be the only person that understood Bucky's reluctance to be in a car with Steve behind the wheel. They would share looks behind Steve's back when he suggested going anywhere, deciding in unspoken code which one of them would go with him to keep the man out of trouble.

"That Chinese place on the way back is pretty good," Steve continued.

"You gave away all our money," Bucky pointed out with a roll of his eyes as he backed the car out and pulled into the street, merging smoothly with city traffic. Unlike his friend, he had learned to drive long before he'd ever joined the army or become the Winter Soldier. Even with the newer, faster cars, he had adapted quickly, Hydra conditioning or no.

"I kept my credit card!" His friend objected, frowning at him as he fished in his pocket and dragged out the cards he had pulled out of his wallet before handing it over to their mugger. "I did like that wallet, though," he added ruefully, speaking mostly to himself as he sorted through the little plastic rectangles, organizing them in order of importance, with his ID on top.

Glancing over at the man as they sat at a stop light, Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out his own wallet, which was now completely empty without his cash. He'd yet to commit to a credit card (considering he wasn't even supposed to exist, there was going to have to be an entire fake identity made before he could acquire any number of things), so the cash was all he had kept in it.

Bucky tossed the beat up, black leather rectangle into Steve's lap as the light changed and he turned his eyes back to the road.

"It's alright, Buck, I can get another one," Steve said, trying to offer the wallet back. His friend had so few things to his name, that even taking something so small as his wallet felt distinctly wrong.

"Just use it and give it back later," the dark haired man said as he shifted gears and merged onto the highway. "Not like I need it anyways," he added, ignoring his friend's hand as he tried to give it back.

Steve hesitated, then withdrew his hand, fingers brushing over the age-worn leather as he proceeded to slot his various cards into its pockets.

Before he could say thank you, Bucky said, "No where's this Chinese place you wanted to go to?"

Cap looked up from his task and smiled "I'll tell you when to turn."

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 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Please consider taking thirty seconds out of your day to drop a review, they really make my day!


	3. Captain Roger's Neighborhood

**Author's Note:** I don't know why, but I would have sworn I had this chapter posted already, lol. This is what happens when you publish way behind where you're actually at in the writing I guess, heh.

Once again, thanks to my beta nighttimelights for keeping my commas in check and my phrasing precise. And please don't forget to drop a review if you enjoyed, they really make my day and keep me chugging along on this project!

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 **The Times They Are A Changin'**  
Chapter Three: Captain Roger's Neighborhood

"So, how did the man-date go?" Natasha asked as she helped Steve clear the table of chinese take-out refuse. "He seemed quiet tonight. Even for him."

Steve ignored the date comment, but had to agree with the red-head's observation on how quiet Bucky had been at dinner. It wasn't uncommon that he would go an entire 'family' meal without speaking, but it was becoming increasingly rare as time went on. These days he would do more than grunt at questions on how his day had been from their teammates. He was even getting to the point that he would crack the occasional joke, something Steve appreciated more than he thought Bucky might realize. His friend had always had a good sense of humor, even if it had leaned towards the sarcastic, verging on the macabre once the war started. Seeing it begin to resurface now gave Cap hope that Bucky could one day regain some form of normalcy more than anything else.

He gave Natasha's question some thought, mulling over their day before finally answering, "Good, I think. We saw a wedding in Central Park."

"Oh?" The redhead asked, arching a brow that invited more information.

"A gay wedding," Steve clarified with a small smile of amusement.

" _Oh,_ " Natasha said, eyebrows going up at this news. "I see. And is he...okay with that?" She asked, watching the man across from her curiously as she wiped down the table.

Steve went thoughtful for a long minute, and she allowed him time to think as he finished gathering up various take-out boxes and abandoned chopsticks, then threw them in the trash can.

The joined kitchen/dining room set aside for residents of the Avengers compound was quite spacious, but seemed significantly less so when they got the entire team together for dinner like they had that evening. It was empty but for them at the moment, though. Vision had insisted on a few team exercises with Ant-Man and Wasp while Steve and Natasha had drawn the short straws on cleaning duty. Though, granted, at least no actual cooking had been done that night.

"He's not against it," Steve answered eventually, then paused and looked at Natasha, brow furrowed seriously as he said "It's just...you have to understand, growing up in the nineteen-thirties..."

His words trailed off, but she caught his meaning, and what he was trying to say. It was a different time.

"Right, no, I got you," she replied quickly with a smile, her way of reassuring him that she didn't think less of Bucky for him being thrown by the idea of open and legal gay marriage. "Homosexuality was illegal in the thirties, wasn't it?" She asked, trying to recall long past history lessons. Her school, specialized as it had been, hadn't exactly focused on civil rights.

The large man nodded as he stuffed the last of the trash into the bin and pulled the full bag out, tightening the drawstrings and tying them in a solid knot.

"He'll be fine once he's had time to process," Steve said confidently, smiling over at Natasha as she finished up the table. "I think this is one of the biggest changes he's had to come to terms with so far, is all. It was hard for me too."

Romanov gave him a skeptical look, clearly not buying the idea of Captain America having trouble acclimating to positive changes in civil rights.

"It was!" He objected, blushing a little at her obvious doubt. "Maybe not the way it would be for some people-"

"Most people," Natasha clarified, throwing a dish towel at him with a smile "Face it, you're the most accepting person this side of the Kingdom of Make-believe."

Steve just looked at her, clearly missing her Mr. Roger's Neighborhood reference. The spy sighed, figuring it had been too much to hope that he'd be familiar with daytime children's tv shows.

"Anyways," he continued "Tech is easy to get a grip on once you've got the basics, but seventy years of social and political changes took a bit longer."

In the end, all Natasha could do was acquiesce the point to him. After all, he was the one who had actually lived through it. Even if he did seem as though he had adapted flawlessly to modern day progressiveness, that didn't mean that it didn't take some effort on his part to wrap his brain around the twenty-first century way of doing things.

"Well, what else did you boys get up to? You didn't just sit and watch some stranger's wedding that whole time you were out like some sort of weird creepers, did you?" Natasha asked with a grin as they gathered up the dirty glassware and divided up the last of the cleaning duties. She set about washing them while he dried and put them in the cabinet. They could have simply put them in the dishwasher, but neither was in a hurry to join the others for a practice session right after eating a full course of greasy, if delicious, chinese food.

"No," he said with a snort. "We took the subway uptown to find his old apartment."

His grimace told Natasha all she needed to know about how that had gone.

"I'm guessing his neighborhood didn't age as gracefully as yours did."

"Definitely not."

She answered with a quiet 'ah' that turned strangled when Steve added, "We got mugged."

Gasping for breath as she hit herself on the sternum to force herself to breathe, Natasha said, "I'm sorry, I thought you said that you got _mugged._ "

"We did," Steve replied, grinning at the absurdity of his completely honest statement while his friend gaped at him. "Kid took all our cash, but I talked him into letting me keep my cards."

"How-" she began, then raised a hand to stop him from answering. "No, _why._ Yes, _why_ did you let a kid mug you?"

"Who had the balls to mug Captain-freaking-America?" Scott asked as he ducked into the kitchen, having apparently overheard their conversation from the hall.

"Some punk kid, apparently. Trust me, I am simply _dying_ to know what sort of skills this boy had that he was able to get away with both Captain America and the Winter Soldier's cash. Obviously we need to recruit him." Natasha said, tone still disbelieving.

Scott whistled his appreciation as he took a freshly dried glass from Steve's hand and proceeded to fill it with water. He took a sip, then gestured for him to continue the story as he leaned casually against the counter, clearly intent on staying put until he heard the whole of it.

Steve rolled his eyes and related the tale, and by the end of it both Scott and Natasha had devolved into gales of laughter.

"Ooh I wish I could have been there to see that kid's freaking face when soldier-boy crushed his gun. Holy shit," the other man wheezed.

"Poor Bucky," Natasha said as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. "You're the only person he'd do that for, you know," she said, chuckling at her friend.

"Oh hell yeah," Scott agreed immediately as he got himself under control and took another sip of his water. "Anyone else that told him not to beat the tar out of that kid woulda found that gun shoved so far up their-"

"Scott, are you in here?"

The man winced and ducked behind Steve, who looked to the door in time to see Hope enter, obviously looking for her boyfriend. His attempt to hide himself behind his fellow Avenger proved far from effective as she glared at him through Cap, fists planted on her hips.

"Scott, we're supposed to be training with Vision and Wanda right now, come on. Don't you dare ditch me in there!" She chided him sharply, angular eyes narrowed.

"How can he expect us to be running around doing stuff after all that chinese food?!" Her boyfriend demanded, peeking around Steve's much larger frame to meet Hope's gaze. "It was some sort of horrible trap - I think I'm gonna puke."

Hope rolled her eyes expressively. "I _told_ you not to eat so many egg rolls," she said, clearly pitiless as she reached around Steve with a polite "Excuse me," grabbed Scott, then proceeded to drag him out of the room.

"Cap, for god's sake, save me!" The man cried dramatically as he was dragged away.

Suppressing his own laughter now, Steve snapped off a sharp salute and said, "Good luck in there, soldier. Stay strong."

"Romanov, avenge me!"

"Yeah, I'll get right on that, soon as she kills you," Natasha replied as Hope and Scott disappeared back down the hall.

When their teammates cries for help had finally died away, Natasha turned to Steve and said, "So don't forget, we've got that charity ball of Tony's to go to day after tomorrow."

Cap groaned and tossed aside his dish towel. "I'd kinda hoped you'd forgotten," he admitted with a rueful smile when she arched a brow at him.

"I _never_ forget," the redhead said and poked him in the chest. "Which means dancing lessons are on for tomorrow, sir. You will _not_ be crushing my feet during the opening ceremony tomorrow, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered with a wince, absently rubbing the place she had jabbed.

* * *

It was late when Steve eventually made his way to bed. He and Natasha had both wound up being dragged into the tail end of Vision's training session, and then Scott had insisted on everyone having a beer together as a 'bonding exercise' after so much hard work. It had been fun, though Bucky's presence had been missed. Wanda had gone to fetch him, but had apparently been met with staunch refusal when she invited him to join them for a beer.

Concern for his friend pushed Steve to deviate from his course towards bed. He instead went to the end of the side hall where Bucky had taken up residence. None of the other rooms in this hall had been taken thus far, which he assumed was why his friend had chosen a room there.

To his surprise the door to Bucky's room was actually half-open, which he took as an unspoken invitation to open it further. The other man never left his door ajar otherwise.

Bucky sat cross-legged on the floor, pieces of his favorite rifle laid out neatly on a blanket as he carefully cleaned each and every piece using the tools from the kit at his side. He didn't look up when the door swung quietly open, or when Steve leaned casually against the door frame, arms folded over his chest.

Cap watched his friend for a long minute, not wanting to interrupt him as he worked with the small, delicate parts of the trigger piece. Besides, there was something oddly calming about observing Bucky's precise movements as he disassembled the mechanism, wiped it down, and then meticulously reassembled it. It had always been that way back during the war, though. Cleaning his rifle had become such a meditative activity for the man that he would do it even if his gun was still pristine from its last disassembling. Steve and the other commandos would always tease him about the habit, but he had always shrugged them off.

"Pretty sure it's clean, Buck," Steve said with a smile once the other man had re-installed the trigger piece, his words echoing those he had spoken so many times in the past in tents on the warfront or undercover behind enemy lines.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness, and we need all the help we can get," Bucky responded without thinking. He then paused, brow furrowed as the words registered.

When he looked up at his friend, Steve was beaming at him.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" The blond man remarked, still grinning. Hearing his friend's old, familiar come-back to his teasing made him happier than he could say.

The other man's warm, clearly pleased smile made Bucky's heart pound alarmingly when he saw it. Steve practically lit up the room when he smiled like that. It made one feel as though everything were right in the world and nothing could possibly go wrong…

"Apparently," Bucky admitted gruffly, but was unable to repress a small smile of his own. How could _anyone_ resist the urge when Captain America looked at them like that. "Did you need something?" He asked as he turned his attention back to his rifle.

Steve straightened and said, "I was just heading to bed, actually. Figured I'd say goodnight."

Bucky nodded, attention still on the scattered pieces of his rifle. "Goodnight," he replied.

His friend lingered there for a moment, and the ex-soldier found himself holding his breath, waiting for Steve to say something else. He didn't though, just nodded and turned to leave.

"Steve," Bucky said, looking up in time to see the other man poke his head back around the door frame, eyebrows raised in question.

"Yeah?"

"Er," he hesitated awkwardly for a moment, then said, "Thanks." The way Steve tilted his head in question told the man he'd have to clarify, though, so he cleared his throat and added "For today, I mean. It was..." His face screwed up in thought as he tried to land on the right word for the afternoon they had spent together. "Nice," he finally decided.

The discomfort proved worth it when Steve fixed him with another one of his very brightest smiles.

"No problem," the blond said, relieved that Bucky had apparently worked his way through any initial hang-up he might have had about the wedding they had witnessed, and had a good time. "Maybe next time we'll go for shawarma."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his friend. "What the hell is shawarma?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Obligatory shawarma joke is obligatory. I have no excuse.


	4. A Kiss with a Fist

**Authors Note:** This chapter is a little on the short side, but it was a good place to stop, so here we are, haha. I promise the next chapter will be longer ;D

Thanks again to my beta, nighttimelights, and please remember to drop a review if you enjoyed! It only takes a second and it really does make my day!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A Changin'**

Chapter Four: A Kiss with a Fist

The next morning Bucky woke early, ate a light breakfast, and then went down to the gym to work off some of the strange, anxious energy that had driven him from bed after only three hours of sleep. It was empty, something Bucky found himself welcoming in the predawn twilight as he flipped on the lights and went to work.

He was on his third reinforced punching bag when movement at the window distracted him. Steve's abrupt appearance on the window ledge as he swung down from the floor above made Bucky miss his next punch entirely. His friend looked back and forth warily, then tapped on the window and motioned for him to open it.

The ex-soldier blinked as he righted himself, then moved to let Steve in. His friend had to sidle to one side of the ledge to allow Bucky to push the window open. He then slipped into the gym, grinning like a school boy.

"Thanks, Buck," Steve said, clapping his friend on the shoulder, a little out of breath.

"What the hell are you doing?" The other man asked, torn between amusement and concern that his friend might be losing his mind.

"Oh, just… you know," Steve gave a casual wave of a hand, but the look his friend gave him told the man that, no, Bucky did _not_ know. "Avoiding Natasha," he admitted. "I've been putting off dancing lessons with her for days now and she's dead set on doing it today since Tony's charity ball is tomorrow night."

"Ah," Bucky replied, concern forgotten as the reason behind his friend's odd arrival clicked into place. Steve always _had_ been the type to avoid dancing at all costs. Granted, he didn't understand why he retained the aversion these days. He'd understood it when they were younger. Steve had been so small then that most of his would-be dance partners loomed over him by inches. Not something most women at the time had enjoyed, and neither had Steve.

Now, though, he towered over most women (and Bucky's own five foot nine) at six foot two, yet he still acted like the scrawny, undersized boy no girl at the dance wanted for a partner.

Bucky shook his head absently and turned back to his heavy bag. "You won't be able to avoid her forever."

"Yeah, I know," the man said with a sigh as his friend started his workout again.

Steve looked around the gym and noted the two discarded bags that had been torn open by heavy use, and he wondered how long Bucky had been at it this morning. The bags were custom made for the compound, reinforced with the most durable materials on the market to stand up to the kind of punishment the Avengers dealt during a workout.

Some days, though, even that wasn't enough.

Watching the way Bucky's current bag jerked against the anchoring chains in the ceiling and floor, Steve stepped up to hold it steady for him. His friend glanced at him briefly and gave him a nod of gratitude before he pushed on.

Steve could feel the strikes reverberate through the sand filled bag and into his own body, as though his friend were trying his damnedest to punch _through_ the thing. Something he had already managed twice that morning, apparently, if the bags behind him were anything to go by. He watched his friend's face closely as he put his weight into the bag to keep it from jumping out of his grip as the intensity of Bucky's punches increased.

His friend was always one to go all out in training, but this seemed… different, making him wonder if there was something bothering the dark haired man. Still, he knew Bucky was unlikely to come right out and tell him what was on his mind, so he tried another tactic.

"I think this bag's about done," Steve remarked with feigned casualness. "What about a match instead?"

He could feel the change in Bucky's punch as soon as he suggested it, and his reluctance showed in his eyes when they darted up to meet Steve's own.

Knowing precisely what the man was thinking, Cap said, "You'll never be sure you can control yourself if you don't practice, Buck," in a soothing tone, expression sincere as he tilted his head to catch his friend's eyes again.

Bucky scowled in response and gave the heavy bag a few more solid punches before landing a death-blow with his left hand that split the thing and dumped sand all over both their shoes. He stood there for a moment, watching the remaining golden granules trickle down the sides of the rapidly forming pile.

"Come on," Steve said, drawing his friend from his reverie, gripping his flesh and bone shoulder with a hand and giving it a gentle shake. "We can clean up after."

Brow furrowed, Bucky looked up at his friend and his calm, confident expression. Seeing he had the other man's attention, Steve flashed him a smile and jerked his head towards the mats, then lead the way over without waiting for a response.

Bucky hesitated, then sighed and followed after, knowing Steve wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he didn't. The other man would never push him if he didn't think he was ready, and he meant well, even if he _was_ a pain in the ass.

The pair squared off on the mats after kicking off their shoes and socks, not wanting to drag sand all over the padded surface. Their guards up, the match began with a nod of agreement between them. The pair began to circle one another. Steve darted in first, as Bucky had expected, going for a quick left-right combo that the ex-soldier ducked, then countered with a hard jab at his friend's ribs.

Steve caught Bucky's arm and twisted, trying to pull him off balance - but the smaller man was ready and rolled with it, pulling free and lashing out at his friend's ankles with a swift hook kick. The blond hit the mats with a mighty thump, but when Bucky lunged in to pin him Steve caught him in the chest with a front kick that shot the ex-soldier right back to his feet.

Stumbling back a few strides at the abrupt change in footing, Bucky nearly took a knee to the gut as Steve chased after him, keeping him on the proverbial ropes as he struggled for balance. The ex-soldier twisted nimbly to the side, though, one knee lifted so his friend's slid off his hip, forward momentum nearly sending him into the wall. Steve rallied quickly, and the pair exchanged a flurry of punches and kicks that left them both breathing hard, unwilling to give ground to the other.

"Rogers!"

Natasha's shout startled Steve into whipping around to look at her, just in time to catch Bucky's left hook directly to the jaw. The blow connected with the sickening smack of steel on flesh, making him spin on heel and drop face first onto the mat.

A frisson of horror rippled up Bucky's spine as he immediately dropped to his knees beside his friend.

"Holy shit, Steve? Steve are you okay?" He asked as he carefully turned the large man over so he lay on his back. Steve groaned and stirred immediately, and his friend heaved a sigh of relief, clenching his right hand into a fist to hide the way it shook.

"Holy..." the blond grumbled as he reached up and touched his jaw with one hand, wincing when his fingers came into contact with the bruise that was already beginning to blossom there. "What happened?"

"You turned right into his punch, you idiot," Natasha chided him as she approached and stood over the pair, expression torn between amusement and concern. "You should really know better than that, Steve."

" _You_ should know better than to interrupt a match," Bucky snapped angrily, surprising both Steve and Natasha with the heat behind his words. He caught himself and turned his face from them, hiding his moment of discomfiture by pushing to his feet and brushing himself off.

The spy quirked a brow in Bucky's direction, but it went unnoticed, so she turned and offered Steve a hand up instead, mulling over this interesting outburst as she did.

"Come on, big boy, you're fine," she said with a snort of amusement. "But you know, this is what you get for skipping out on dancing lessons."

"Yeah lesson learned, I guess," Steve mused as he let the petite woman haul him to his feet, her small hands wrapped around his large one.

"Steve," Bucky said, frowning up at him as the taller man turned, one hand over his new sore spot. "I'm sorry," he continued gruffly.

"It's alright, don't worry about it," the blond said immediately in an attempt to put his friend at ease. He knew Bucky hadn't really wanted to spar in the first place, and he had no desire to make him less inclined to do so again in the future. "I'll be fine," he insisted. When he attempted a smile to reassure him, though, Steve flinched.

"You should get him some ice," Bucky instructed Natasha, tone and expression serious. "I caught him with my left," he continued, holding up his silver hand to make his point.

"Yes _mom_ ," Romanov said, rolling her eyes as she proceeded to drag Steve out of the room "Ice and then _dancing,_ " she told Cap with a tone that brooked no argument. When the man went to grab his shoes on the way out, though, she stopped him, saying "No, you leave those. My poor toes are going to be abused enough as it is without you wearing those clodhoppers."

Steve sighed and left them, only pausing at the door to look back at Bucky to give him a wave and a lopsided smile.

Bucky, in turn, raised a hand in farewell, wishing that Romanov had waited a little longer to interrupt them. If nothing else, it might have saved Steve a toothache. The truth was, though, he had been having… _fun_ sparring the man. He hadn't even come close to losing himself in the fight, which was a relief. Still, he would have to tread carefully…

Speaking of treading carefully, Bucky looked around at the gym floor, which was still covered in sand thanks to his overenthusiastic workout prior to Steve's arrival. Sighing to himself, the ex-soldier gathered up the ruined bags and tossed them in a nearby bin, then went in search of a broom.


	5. Like Nobody's Watching

**Author's Note:** Been looking forward to posting this chapter! It was one one of my favorites to write, so hopefully you all enjoy reading it as well! Also, make sure to drop a comment if you enjoy, they definitely help me keep writing!

Also, thanks again to my beta, nighttimelights!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Five: Like Nobody's Watching

It took Bucky long enough to sweep up his mess in the gym that he decided it was absolutely necessary to invest in a tarp to put under the punching bags. Then he could just fold up the tarp and dump it whenever one of the things inevitably gave out.

As he showered, he mulled over this and his match with Steve that morning. He felt better now, far more relaxed than he had been earlier when restlessness had driven him from his bed before dawn.

Once he was dry and dressed, Bucky went to hang his towel on the rack in the bathroom and caught his reflection in the mirror. Stopping, he leaned in closer to the glass and idly rubbed his jaw with his right hand, wondering just when his facial hair had gotten so long. When was the last time he had even shaved?

After a moment's debate, the man rummaged in the drawers under the sink, and found his can of shaving cream and a razor. They had rolled all the way to the back, making him think that it must have been some time indeed since he had last made use of them.

Bucky set to work. When he was done, he washed his face and dried it, then turned back to the mirror to examine his handiwork. Running his good hand over his jaw once more, he was forced to admit that the modern, multi-bladed razors _did_ making shaving easier. He missed getting a hot shave at a barber, though. Places that still offered it were few and far between these days.

Satisfied, the man's attention inevitably went to his hair, which was still damp and hanging in loose waves about his face and shoulders. Frowning a little, Bucky pushed it back from his eyes. He wondered if maybe he shouldn't get it cut like Sam had suggested a few days back. Steve had immediately countered that it looked fine, though, and if he thought it looked fine…

Bucky's expression twisted into one of confusion at the thought. What did he care what Steve, or anyone else for that matter, thought of his hair? Still, maybe he would ask anyways…

Shaking himself, Bucky found the hair-band Natasha had given him the day before and pulled his hair back in the same half-ponytail and had done with it.

Feeling peckish, the ex-soldier wandered down to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich.

Making his way through the compound, he heard someone approaching from the opposite direction. Only a quick side step on his part kept Wanda from colliding with him head-on.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Barnes," she began, but was brought up short when she actually turned her narrow features up to look at him. Wanda stared at him for a moment that left Bucky feeling distinctly self-conscious before she said, "Hey, looking good, soldier-boy," with a sly smile spreading across her face.

"Thanks," Bucky managed to say, feeling awkward as the girl's eyes roved thoughtfully over his features.

"Steve and the others are in the training room," the witch stated nonchalantly as she stepped around him and started walking again. Almost as though it were an afterthought, she glanced back over her shoulder at him and added, "You should probably go save him from Romanov," with that sly smile still on her face.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, but she had already turned the corner, leaving him alone in the hall with his thoughts. Maybe he _should_ go check on Steve's lesson. If nothing else, it'd probably be worth a chuckle.

Mind made up, the ex-soldier changed direction and headed towards the training room, figuring that food could wait. As he walked it occurred to him that once upon a time he would have flirted outrageously with Wanda when she complimented his looks. He'd always been a bit of a skirt chaser before the war, and he wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that he had apparently lost the knack. Or maybe he had just lost interest in passing flirtations. After all, it wasn't as though he didn't like women anymore. He found all the female Avengers very attractive, and then there'd been that pretty waitress at the burger place he and Steve had gone to last week…

No, he definitely still liked women. Hydra's brainwashing hadn't taken _that_ from him.

There seemed to be a disconnect somewhere in his brain between acknowledging that a girl was attractive and actually doing something about it, though. He had thought that he would get over it eventually, but he was beginning to wonder. Perhaps that part of his life was simply over. He was blessed just to have recovered as much as he had, maybe it was to be expected that there would be a price for that.

"Ow!"

The sound of laughter accompanied by faint music reached Bucky's ears before he made it to the training room. When he slipped in through the side door, it was to see Steve hovering over Natasha, who was standing on one leg and nursing an apparently bruised foot.

"Dammit, Steve, at this rate I'm not going to be able to wear sandals tomorrow!" She complained.

"I said I'm sorry!" His friend replied, looking hurt and apologetic simultaneously. A sad state of affairs, to be sure.

"You're just in time," Sam told Bucky as he entered. The other man was leaning against the wall, a broad grin plastered across his face. "It's been quite the show so far."

The ex-soldier snorted lightly as he folded his arms over his chest and took a place next to Sam along the wall. "You sound surprised."

"I mean, yeah, I guess," Falcon said with a chuckle. "You've seen him fight. The guy's practically a ballerina when it comes to breaking faces, but put a lady on his arm and suddenly it all goes out the damn window."

Bucky could only nod his agreement to Sam's observation, watching as Romanov recovered enough to start the lesson again. Vision stood along the far wall, manning the make-shift music station someone had set up on a table. A bluetooth speaker and what looked to be Natasha's phone was all that was needed these days, apparently. The man's red finger tapped the screen, restarting the song for the dancers as they squared up, hands coming together, his right going to the middle of her back as her left went to his shoulder. As they started up again, Bucky immediately realized that Romanov was trying to teach Steve how to waltz.

While Natasha moved through the steps with a natural grace, she was trying to be led as well as lead. The attempt forced her to switch back and forth between the male and female roles of the dance as she tried to simultaneously teach Steve the steps _and_ how to lead her through them.

Steve misstepped again, and Natasha barely avoided taking his heel to the arch of her foot. This threw her larger partner even further off time, resulting in them coming to an awkward, shambling halt.

As the redhead sighed and tried to explain the steps to an obviously frustrated Steve, Sam leaned in a little and asked, "You don't suppose he's got a thing for her that's making him nervous, huh?"

Bucky looked around at the other man and snorted, amusement at the very idea clear on his normally stoic features. He had known Steve a long time, and while he had certainly changed a little over the years, he hadn't changed _that_ much. No, he had mastered the art of spotting a smitten Steve Rogers long ago, and this was far from that. Not that there wasn't an obvious bond between the pair. However, it was more like Natasha had grown to be the sister his friend never had growing up.

"Yeah, I figured it was a stretch," Sam said with a smile of his own as they turned back to watching the dancers.

Watching Steve's building frustration was becoming less funny and more agonizing as the minutes wore on.

When they stopped again, Bucky said, "Steve, take a break," as he took one look at the blond's face and recognized that he was pulling on the dregs of his patience.

The other man looked around in surprise, clearly having not noticed his presence until then. The sight of his friend brought the smile back to his face and he turned to Natasha and said, "Bucky's right, let's take two."

"Yeah, alright, my feet need a break anyways," the spy said with a relieved sigh that made her dance partner roll his eyes as they parted ways; Steve going to Bucky and Sam, Natasha to have a word with Vision.

"Enjoying the show, boys?" Steve asked his friends with a rueful smile as the music played on in the background.

"Oh, very much so," Sam said, grinning from ear to ear, making the blond give him a light shove.

"You're trying too hard again," Bucky told his friend, who looked at him and grimaced.

"That's what you always say," he opined unhappily.

"Wait, you dance?" Sam asked Bucky, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

The ex-soldier gave him a skeptical look. "It was the nineteen-thirties. _Everyone_ danced, Wilson."

"Except him," Sam countered, pointing at Steve, who scowled.

"Except him," Bucky acquiesced.

"Thanks guys," Steve drawled unhappily. "So good to have friends here to support me in my time of need."

Without thinking, Bucky said, "Hey, I'm with you til the end of the line," and almost immediately regretted it. Steve's expression turned solemn and unreadable, making his shorter friend wince and turn his gaze to the floor. Sam gave his friends a confused look at the sudden tension between them, and appeared relieved when Natasha and Vision joined them.

"Ready to start again, Steve?" The redhead asked, holding out one hand to the man.

"Actually," Vision said before Steve was able to accept, "I was thinking that perhaps Bucky Barnes might make an apt partner to teach the Captain."

Bucky gave a little jolt of surprise as the red man's peculiar gray eyes met his own. Vision had always made the ex-soldier distinctly uncomfortable to be around, though he was more at ease with him now than he had been when he first arrived. Any time he looked at Bucky for any length of time, though, the man's skin began to crawl. He knew it was impossible, but the former Winter Soldier felt as though the technopath could see straight to the back of his head, through all the repressed memories of every terrible thing he had ever done for Hydra…

Still, if it would help Steve, Bucky was willing to go along with the suggestion.

"Alright, couldn't hurt," Natasha agreed as she offered her hand to Bucky instead. After a moment's hesitation, he accepted, and the two squared up, hands falling naturally into the appropriate positions just as the song changed.

The ex-soldier's movements were stiff at first, but deeply ingrained muscle memory came to his rescue and before they even hit the second verse it was as though he had never left the dance hall.

"Nice moves, soldier-boy," Natasha teased lightly and smiled up at him, though she was clearly impressed. "Who'd've thought?"

Bucky rolled his eyes but admitted, "Not bad yourself," as they spun gracefully across the floor in time to the music. Natasha was all a man could hope for in a partner; perfectly fitted to him, and completely in-tune with his every movement without anticipating him and trying to lead herself. Each gesture was precise, the tilt of her head and sweep of her arm regal as a queen's.

However, while he appreciated his partner's skill, the woman in his arms didn't set his heart pounding the way it once would have.

Sam gave an appreciative whistle as the pair swept past, which Bucky ignored in favor of looking at Steve to see if he was paying attention. While the man was indeed watching them, the ex-soldier was thrown by the odd, almost wistful smile on his friend's face.

The song came to an end, and Bucky closed the dance by dipping Natasha low, once again impressed by her skill as she bent smoothly beneath him; malleable as clay, but strong as oak in her control.

Vision, Sam, and Steve all applauded, as did Wanda, who had apparently entered through the main doors at some point to watch the display. Bucky righted them both, and Romanov smiled at him, giving the man an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

"Nice work there, partner," she said, and Bucky bowed his head in response.

"While that was indeed a wonderful display of skill," Vision said, a vague smile on his face, "My original intention was for Bucky to dance with _Steve_ ," he clarified, surprising everyone in the room but Wanda.

Natasha recovered first and said, "Well, I guess that makes sense. You'd be better at teaching him how to lead than me," she admitted as she looked back up at Bucky, head canted to one side in unspoken question.

Would he do it?

The ex-soldier's eyes went from her, to Vision, to Sam, who held up his hands and said, "Hey, don't look at me. They don't teach this stuff at school anymore."

When Bucky looked at Steve, the blond felt his heart rate jump through the roof at the thoughtful expression on his friend's face. The sensation made the first Avenger wonder if maybe he hadn't let Natasha spin him around the room one too many times, and he tugged absently at the collar of his gray t-shirt as though that would relieve the strange, breathless sensation that suddenly plagued him.

"Steve?" Bucky asked, the sound of his own name sending a jolt straight up the blond's spine as the other man offered his hand, expression stoic.

Rallying, Steve took it. "Yeah, alright, why not? Nothing else has worked," he joked, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt.

Feeling awkward, Steve allowed Bucky to lead him out onto the floor, his right hand holding his friend's left. They squared up, and the first correction came when the blond tried to take the leading stance.

"I'll lead, you follow," Bucky said matter-of-factly as he corrected the placement of Steve's hands. He must have made some noise of objection, as the shorter man looked up at him and stated, "Learn the steps, then you can lead."

"A-alright," Steve replied, and cleared his throat awkwardly as he allowed his left hand to rest on Bucky's right shoulder and adjusted his hold on his friend's left. The jangling of his nerves intensified when Bucky's right hand slipped up his back to rest, warm and solid, just under his shoulder-blade.

Across the room, and well out of earshot, the four other Avengers had grouped by the speaker, and were watching the scene before them unfold.

"Is it just me… or did Cap just turn into a flustered school girl?" Sam asked, words slow and unsure, as though he doubted what he was seeing.

"Noooo," Natasha replied, trying very, _very_ hard not to smile like the cat who'd gotten the cream, but failing miserably. "It's not just you."

Beside her, Wanda was fighting and losing the same battle while Vision stood by, simply smiling beneficently at the pair.

"As we move, think of a box," Bucky explained once he was satisfied with their stance. "You want to move left and step on each corner, then diagonally across the center."

Steve looked down at their feet and huffed, "Yeah, not the first time I've heard that."

"Good, then you can follow," Bucky countered to nip his friend's frustration in the bud. His words made Steve's head snap back up to look at him just as the next song started, and the ex-soldier started them moving.

Steve nearly stumbled with the suddenness of it, but Bucky supported him as he caught his footing, eyes inevitably dragged back their feet, counting quietly under his breath as he struggled to keep up with the movements. He had a sudden moment of sympathy for the pain he had put Natasha through when he narrowly avoided having his bare foot stepped on by Bucky's booted one after a misstep.

"Quit looking at your feet," Bucky chided his friend. It was distinctly strange to play lead to such a tall partner, but years of experience and skill came to the man's rescue and allowed him to adapt quickly to the difference in height. He kept the steps simple for the moment, restraining them to the box step to allow Steve to practice the basics before throwing in the more elaborate turns and spins.

"How else am I supposed to keep track of where I'm going when I have no idea what I'm doing?" Steve groused, nerves forgotten in the face of his old foe, dancing.

A smile tugged at Bucky's lips and he said, "I never hear you complain about that when you fight." Steve's expression of surprise was enough to make the dark haired man continue. "You didn't have to see exactly where your foot was before you planted it in my chest earlier."

"Yeah but that's different, I don't have to do a specific movement at any given time," Steve said with a frown.

"You don't here, either," Bucky replied, then suddenly released his hold on Steve and set him spinning out to arm's length before pulling him back in again. The blond made a small noise of surprise, but his reflexes kicked in, allowing him to step back in with ease, though they wound up much closer than before.

"The box step pattern is just a framework to build off of," the ex-soldier explained, and Steve found himself nodding along mutely, heart pounding again as he looked down at him.

Something registered with Steve then that hadn't when Bucky had first entered the room.

"You shaved," he observed.

His friend looked up at him, expression surprised then amused as he asked, "And? Is that not allowed?"

"What?" Steve said dumbly, misstepping and forcing Bucky to compensate in his stride and put them back on course. "No, I just-"

"How about we finish the lesson, and _then_ you can critique my shave job, huh?" The ex-soldier mused, ignoring the way his pulse quickened. Was it getting warm in here? It definitely _felt_ warm in the training room all of a sudden…

"I wasn't-" Steve began, only to be cut off again.

"Focus, Steve," Bucky said, though he knew he'd do well to take his own advice at this rate. "Just...feel the steps, don't count them," he advised.

"Feel, don't count," Steve repeated, only to get unexpectedly poked in the ribs when his eyes inexorably drifted back to his feet. "Alright, alright! I'm feeling!" He cried with a laugh before Bucky could do it again.

To his surprise, Steve found that he wasn't simply saying the words to appease Bucky anymore. As soon as he stopped paying so much attention to his feet and let his friend guide them, things became easier.

"Maybe this isn't so bad after all," Cap said brightly, beaming down at his dance partner, who couldn't help but smile in turn.

"Good," Bucky replied "Now try to keep up," he added.

"What-" the other man began, only to find himself being led across the floor in a winding path that had them circling the room. To Steve's own delight, though, he managed to keep up without misstepping once, even if he didn't move quite as smoothly as his partner.

A loud whistle from the side of the room drew Steve's attention, and he looked to see Natasha applauding, and all his friends smiling broadly. The man beamed in return, then looked down at Bucky, his blue eyes bright.

"You're a pretty great teacher, Buck, we should've done this years ago," he observed as they moved in time with one another. Steve had always been a quick learner, especially post serum, but dancing had continued to elude him… until now. Maybe, he thought, he just needed the right teacher.

"I'm… not sure how well that might have gone over at the dance hall," Bucky pointed out, and Steve had to concede the point.

"Think I'm ready to try leading?" Steve asked once they'd made another circuit of the room. His movements were getting smoother with each pass, and the first Avenger was quickly becoming more confident.

Bucky crooked a brow up at his friend. "I don't know," he remarked as he sent Steve spinning out to arm's-length again, until they were connected by only their fingertips. The gesture didn't get the same startled reaction as it had last time, though, and the blond flowed through it admirably, so the ex-soldier decided to up the ante. This time, when Steve spun back towards him, Bucky side-stepped at the last moment and took the man's full weight with his right arm and dipped him over backwards, right leg sliding gracefully out behind him for added balance. "Are you?" He asked a little breathlessly.

And there it was. The wild pounding of his heart that had nothing to do with exertion filled Bucky's ears as he grinned wickedly down at Steve. The man stared back at him with wide, startled blue eyes for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. His right hand clutched frantically at Bucky's metal one while he clung to his friend's shoulder with the other.

"Oh god, let me up, Buck," Steve wheezed, still laughing.

"Uh-" the former soldier began as they started to topple. Unfortunately, while Bucky knew very well how to dip a partner, Steve had no idea how to _be_ _dipped,_ so his center of balance was completely wrong for the shorter man to pull him back up as he had Natasha.

Steve hit the ground, still clinging to Bucky as he dragged the man with him. The ex-soldier landed on his friend with a grunt, his face pressed to the other man's collarbone, their limbs tangled around one another. Beneath him, Steve's chest shook as he laughed. The warmth of the sound and the other man's body made something stir in the ex-soldier unexpectedly.

"Hey now, don't break my date, Bucky," Natasha teased as she and the others approached to help the pair up. "I need him in one piece for tomorrow."

"Right, because Bucky falling on me is what's going to finally do me in," Steve said with a snort as they rolled apart and allowed their teammates to help them to their feet. Still grinning, he looked at his partner and offered his hand. "Well, what do you say, Buck, one more round, but we save the dip for the chips later?"

Wanda's face twisted at the bad joke as Sam groaned and Romanov rolled her eyes expressively.

"Oh come on, it was funny," Steve sniffed, then turned his attention back to Bucky, who had yet to take his hand. Rather than laughing, though, his friend seemed withdrawn, uncomfortable even. Before he could ask what was the matter, though, the dark haired man spoke first.

"No, I'm-" he began, tearing his eyes from Steve's as his friend's smile faded, ignoring the guilty prick of conscience the sight gave him. "You've got the basics down. Natasha can take it from here," he insisted, taking a step back from the group.

"Well, yeah, but-" Steve began, brow furrowed, searching for the right words to express what he wanted to say, but not quite able to speak when he found them. He didn't _want_ to dance with Romanov, he realized abruptly. What he wanted was another dance with Bucky. Who led didn't really matter in his book.

"You'll do fine, Steve," Bucky said as he turned and made for the door, not stopping to look back for fear that one smile from his friend would bring him running right back again.

As the door swung closed behind Bucky, Sam and Wanda shared a look, and Vision seemed thoughtful, if a little confused. Before any of them could comment, though, Natasha clapped her hands once and turned back to Steve.

"Well, ready to learn how to lead?" She asked brightly in an attempt to lighten her partner's mood.

Steve's brow furrowed as he watched the door for a moment longer, as though hoping Bucky might have second thoughts and return, then glanced down at the redhead and attempted a smile in turn. "Yeah, sure, Nat. Let's go."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks again for reading! Please consider taking just thirty seconds out of your day to drop a review! They really do mean the world to me.


	6. Suit Up

**Author's Note:** Sort of a transitional chapter here, but hope you enjoy! Building up to some things to come, heh.

As per usual, thanks to my beta nighttimelights! Also, don't forget to drop a review if you enjoyed, they really make my day and help me write!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Six: Suit Up

Knowing there were precious few other places in the compound he could go and be guaranteed peace, Bucky headed to his room and closed the door quietly behind him. He leaned heavily against it for a moment, breathing deeply in an attempt to slow the torrent of emotion that surged through him.

It was too much. Too much after so long feeling nothing at all…

Desperate for a distraction, Bucky's eyes went to the gun locker standing in one corner of his room. The Avengers had their own armaments room, but everyone had a few weapons that were theirs alone that they kept in their quarters. Bucky had more than most.

Stepping over to it, the ex-soldier tugged open the door and looked at the contents. His rifle stood where he'd left it, but even he had to admit that cleaning the thing two days in a row without even using it was a bit much. So he went for his collection of pistols instead.

Once he'd laid out his cleaning kit and gotten started, Bucky found himself glad that he had gone for the smaller firearms to clean. The pieces were were small and the mechanisms particularly finicky, forcing him to exert extra effort and concentration as he worked.

Though the distraction would have normally been more than enough, Bucky found himself still mulling over the afternoon in the back of his head. The ex-soldier was forced to snatch for a crucial pin when his grip tightened reflexively at the sudden recollection Steve's solid weight in his arms as he dipped him, and the way Bucky's body had folded over him to support the man.

He sighed heavily, then pushed the though from his mind and went back to work. His focus didn't last long though, and his peace of mind was ambushed by errant memories again before he'd even started on his second pistol.

He had heard the pounding of his friend's heart when he'd landed on the man, Bucky realized belatedly. It had beat a tattoo against the man's chest that matched his own quick pulse, Steve's good natured laugh playing a counterpoint, even the memory of which made the ex-soldier's stomach tighten. His friend had been warm and solid beneath him before they'd disentangled, and Bucky was surprised (and frankly terrified) to realize that he would have been perfectly happy to remain where they had landed indefinitely.

Trying his very best to suppress this and similar thoughts about his oldest friend, Bucky proceeded to clean every pistol in his locker piece by piece in an attempt to reign in his uncharacteristically unruly emotions.

By the time he got to the last one it was dark outside and the ex-soldier had been forced to turn on the overhead light. He sat cross-legged on the carpet with his back against the door, which allowed him to hear someone coming down the hallway before they were in sight of his room. They were moving quietly, but Bucky recognized Steve's tread too readily for it to go unnoticed in the silence of his bedroom.

Acting on panicked impulse, the man reached up behind him and flipped the light switch, plunging his room into darkness. A moment later, he heard Steve come to a stop in front of his door, and then hesitate. He could practically see his friend shift his weight indecisively in his mind's eye as he raised a hand to knock, only to stop short.

Bucky held his breath, waiting for Steve to make his next move.

The knock, when it came, was light and tenuous, as though the man delivering it wasn't entirely certain that he _wanted_ it to be heard. Bucky did, though, and he flinched, wishing Steve had simply left when he saw his light was out so he could feel a little less guilty about hiding.

"Bucky?"

Steve's voice was low and quiet as the ex-soldier propped his elbows on his knees and pressed his face into his hands. When he received no answer, Bucky could hear his sigh, followed by a quiet thump that told him Steve had dropped his forehead to let it rest against the cool steel.

After a minute that seemed to stretch forever, Bucky heard Steve push off the door and murmur, "Goodnight, Buck."

When his friend's footsteps faded, Bucky lifted his head from his hands, feeling a coward at the sense of relief that swept through him. Though he had spent years trying to outrun Steve after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., this was his first time outright avoiding him since coming back into his (more or less) right mind.

It felt…wrong, but safer than the alternative. What the alternative _was_ , exactly, he couldn't quite say.

* * *

"Still no sign of Bucky?"

Standing in front of the full length mirror that hung inside his closet, Steve turned to glance at Natasha, who waited in his open doorway. He was in the middle of tying his tie when she entered at his invitation.

"No," he replied, trying, and failing, not to sigh as he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

"We're sure he's still in the building?" She asked after a moment of silence, during which she sat herself on the edge of his bed and began pulling on a pair of strappy silver heels.

He nodded in response as he slipped the blue silk of his tie over and under itself, then pulled it taut to form a perfect half-windsor and said, "Or so Wanda insists."

"You didn't ask her where to find him?" Natasha asked, glancing up from her shoes and crooking an eyebrow at him as she made a little gesture with her hand to imply the use of the other woman's powers.

"No, if he's working this hard to avoid people, it's probably best to let him be for now," Steve answered reluctantly.

"That wasn't what you thought before you and Sam managed to drag him back here kicking and screaming," the spy mused as she got to her feet and straightened out the skirt of her dress with a deft flick.

Tony's charity ball was a black tie affair, though luckily not one that required a tuxedo. Suits he could (reluctantly) deal with, but tuxedos, in Steve's opinion, ought to be banned by the Geneva convention. He had to admit, though, that Natasha looked downright ravishing in her evening gown. It was a strapless affair that hugged her figure down to her hips where the long silk skirt flowed gracefully around her legs with every step she took. It was simple in design, but the dazzling color of the fabric more than made up for it. At first glance, her dress seemed to be a simple, though lovely, shade of sapphire. With every move and shift of the light though, shimmering waves of gold and emerald appeared and then faded away again, like a peacock's plumage.

"That was different," Steve replied sternly, looking at Natasha's reflection in the mirror as he buttoned his suit jacket and tugged his shirt-sleeves into place at his wrists. "Well," he asked, spreading his hands to allow the woman a better look, "Do I pass muster?"

The spy looked properly chastened until Steve invited her critique on his appearance, at which point she pursed her lips thoughtfully and circled him for an inspection.

"Not bad, Rogers, not bad," she acquiesced with a sly smile as she came to a stop before him once more and brushed an invisible bit of lint from his tie. Its sapphire hue matched her dress perfectly, though did not possess the same gold and green undertones.

It was probably for the best, she reasoned, flashy simply wasn't the Captain's style.

"Told you the English cut would be a good one for you," Natasha added as she looked him up and down, nodding thoughtfully to herself. "It was worth the trip to the tailor, huh?"

Steve made a noncommittal noise as he turned his eyes back to the mirror, giving himself a last once over to make sure everything was in place. The last thing he needed was Tony giving him flack for his appearance.

For all he'd never put much thought into what he wore (he'd been far too poor in his youth, and once he'd enlisted, his uniform was all he'd never really needed), the man had to admit that Natasha's choice of suit looked _good_ on him. The tailor they'd gone to in New York had looked fit to faint at the site of the physique he would be outfitting, leading him to mutter excitedly to himself in rapid Italian as he took Steve's measurements.

The super-soldier was as trim and well-muscled as ever, but the suit did things to enhance his best features that even he had to marvel at. It was truly a masterpiece of the textile arts.

"I know they say 'don't mess with perfection'," Natasha remarked with a wicked grin as she joined him in looking at his reflection, "But I don't think 'they' ever saw you in this suit."

"Natasha," Steve grumbled. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he turned and went in search of his shoes, which he had taken care to polish before donning his suit.

He slipped them on and as he tied them, Natasha asked, "So, what are you doing about your hair?"

"My hair?" He repeated, glancing up, halfway through his task.

The spy crooked an eyebrow at him, the gesture both a question and a command.

 _Are you seriously not going to do something with your hair? Go do something with your hair,_ the look said.

"If this wasn't a _charity_ ball..." Steve muttered unhappily to himself with a sigh as he finished tying his shoes and stalked into the bathroom.

Natasha chuckled quietly to herself as the bathroom door shut smartly behind the man. While she waited, the redhead looked around the room thoughtfully.

She'd been in Steve's personal quarters many a time. Everyone had, really. The Captain maintained a rather literal open door policy with all of the Avengers, though he did have an actual office in the main branch of the compound where he would meet with the extended staff that acted as their support team.

There were barracks on the grounds for overnight staff to kip in as needed, but the Avengers all maintained full-time quarters in what had been dubbed the 'dorm wing' of the compound by all involved. This private section also included the joined kitchen and dining room, gym, and relaxation area that had become known as 'the rumpus room'. Steve's persistent use of the dated term had inevitably caught on, completely overriding the original 'living room' title. He'd received no end of teasing for it at first, but the name had stuck.

The number of rooms available outnumbered their actual membership so far, but they all liked to think that they would add to the team eventually, and it was nice to know they had room to expand as needed. The rooms themselves were modest, with basic furniture provided, and each room held a private bathroom as well.

Steve's quarters had seen quite a bit of personalization since he'd been one of the first to actually move into the facility. The default furniture, with its clean, modern lines had all been replaced by wood pieces that looked antique, but sturdy.

… Much like Steve himself, Natasha mused with a smile as she trailed a finely manicured hand over the dark blue comforter that covered the bed.

The mattress was far too firm for her taste, but the overstuffed sofa in one corner was nice, though she didn't dare sit on it now for fear of wrinkling her gown.

A heavy looking desk dominated one wall, and it was against its spotless surface that Natasha leaned as she waited for her friend to finish getting ready. The entire room left not a pin out of place, with the possible exception of Steve's infamous shield, which leaned against the wall by the door within easy reach of its master at all times. Cap's obsessive neatness never ceased to amuse the woman, though it never surprised, considering his military career. No doubt Bucky's would be organized much the same, if in a less personal manner.

The spy had caught only the briefest glances of the other man's room in passing, as he kept rather the opposite of an open door policy. In fact, as far as she knew, Steve was the only person who was _ever_ allowed in Bucky's room.

Steve and Bucky...now there was an interesting jigsaw puzzle that only seemed to get more complicated the longer you looked at it.

While the first Avenger was a dear friend, Natasha knew that Steve loved Bucky. The question was, just what _kind_ of love? The depth of dedication the pair had for one another was breath-taking, the lengths to which they would go for each other, awe-inspiring; but it did seem to flout the normal definition of love.

She had once asked Steve if he trusted her with his life, and he had said that he did, which meant the world to her. Still, she knew she couldn't begin to touch what the man and Bucky had between them; a bond forged in fire and blood that would send one plunging into the heart of hell itself to _carry_ the other out if necessary.

So, where did that leave their relationship? Powerful but complicated, Natasha figured, and possibly changing with time (or _the_ times, rather).

The door to the bathroom opened, and the spy looked around as Steve stepped out and said "There. Happy now?"

The woman tilted her head to one side, a smirk tugging at her full lips as she considered the state of his blond hair. He had applied some sort of oil or gel, then run a comb through it, leaving it sleek and thoroughly tamed, with nary a strand out of place. The style no doubt hailed from his military days in the early forties, but fortunately for him, the look had been making a comeback recently. Either way, combined with the suit, her friend looked quite dashing.

"It'll do," she said, smile turning into a grin as Steve turned his eyes heavenward in relief "Alright, let's get out of here, then, " she continued and grabbed up her clutch as the man went to the door, waiting for her.

She saw him glance at his shield and immediately said, "Leave it, Steve," as she sashayed past him. "You're looking good, but not good enough to need a shield to keep the ladies off you."

"I wasn't _actually_ going to bring it," he said, sounding hurt as he flipped off the light and closed the door behind him with a snap. "It's just...habit."

"Uh-huh," she said with a snort as they strolled down the hall together, then made their way to the compound's main lobby to meet the others.

Sam, Wanda, and Vision were already there, dressed to the nines and waiting on them. James, Hope, and Scott had agreed to meet them at the ball later since they all had places of their own that they would be coming from.

"Sorry, guys, Steve had to primp," Natasha apologized as they joined the rest of the group.

"I di-" the blond caught himself mid objection and huffed, deciding he didn't have the energy to argue the point with the spy. Instead, he turned to Vision and asked, "You're sure you don't want to come?"

"Quite," the man mused with a thoughtful smile. "But I thank you for the invitation. Please be sure to send Mr. Stark my apologies."

"Of course," Steve said. As much as he hated leaving their teammate behind, Vision was still slowly integrating himself with human society, and had confessed that he didn't think he was quite ready for a ball. "I leave the place in your capable hands, then," he added and gave the man a firm handshake.

"Try not to burn it down," Natasha teased as she looped her arm through Steve's and led him out the door, leaving the others to follow.

"I assure you, I will not," Vision replied, tone completely serious.

"She is only joking, Vision, we trust you," Wanda said with a smile up at him.

"Oh, no need to worry. I am quite aware," he replied with a chuckle, then gave the witch a slight bow. "Have a pleasant evening."

"I think I will. I've never been to a charity ball before," the woman admitted as Sam gallantly offered her his arm and lead her out the door after the others.

"Well, Tony knows how to throw a party," the man said with a chuckle, "But I wouldn't get your hopes up _too_ high. No Cinderellas on the guest list tonight, I think."

"Speak for yourself," Natasha called back as they approached the shiny black SUV that was parked out front waiting for them. "I'm pretty sure Steve turns into a pumpkin if he's not in bed by midnight."

"If you keep this up, Nat, I swear I will step on your toes every chance I get tonight," Steve threatened blandly as he opened the car door for her.

"Heaven forbid," she gasped as she stepped up into the vehicle and slid across the seat to make room. She laid off on her teasing, though, smiling at Wanda and complimenting her on her crimson dress as the younger woman slipped in to sit next to her.

Sam took the driver's seat, and Steve turned to look back at the compound one last time before getting in himself. Feeling eyes on him, the super-soldier turned his gaze to the roof to spot a dark silhouette against the starry sky watching him. Immediately recognizing its owner, Steve raised a hand in farewell.

After a moment's hesitation, Bucky waved in turn, and watched as the car pulled away into the night.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Once again, if you enjoyed, do please take a few seconds to drop a review! It makes my day hearing what you guys think!


	7. A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:** So I saw Civil War opening night on the fifth and just...guys. Guys. Guys...  
-drowns in feels forever-  
James Buchannon Barnes is a precious cinnamon roll, and I jUsT WaNT hiM TO Be haPpY

My gross sobbing aside, thanks again to my wonderful Beta, nighttimelights! Remember to drop a review if you enjoy, they super make my day and help me keep up the energy to write!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**  
Chapter Seven: A Helping Hand

Bucky initially reveled in the quiet that overtook the dorm wing when his teammates left for the party, but before long the silence became deafening. Feeling restless and unable to sit in his room any longer, the ex-soldier grabbed his little kit of tools and headed for the observation deck.

Well, they _called_ it the observation deck, but it was actually just a small room squeezed in between the kitchen and the rumpus room that hosted a bank of monitors patched into the compound's security system. From there, they could see anything happening anywhere on the grounds at any given time.

It wasn't often that any of them actually spent time in the small room, but Bucky liked to hide out there sometimes. It afforded him both solitude and a bird's eye view of what was happening around him.

After a brief perusal of the many screens showed that there was little of interest happening, the former soldier plopped down in a chair and opened the small tool kit he had brought with him. It wasn't something he'd ever let any of his teammates see him doing, but his arm required occasional maintenance. In the past his Hydra handlers had primarily handled the bulk of this, but even then inevitable mishaps in the field meant that he had to know how to do it himself.

Using a tiny, specially crafted key, Bucky popped several of the plates off of his palm to expose the inner workings of his hand. No one else had noticed, but the joints of his fingers had started to click, and in his experience that inevitably preluded seizing glitches in his hand of increasing severity, making fine gestures next to impossible.

The man worked in contented silence for several minutes before the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. He whipped around to look behind him.

Bucky made a strangled noise when he found Vision standing directly behind him, staring at his work with an expression of interest on his face. When the ex-soldier made to jump to his feet, the other man gripped his shoulder and held him in place.

"No, please, I don't wish to disrupt you," the technopath said, nodding to the exposed mechanisms of Bucky's hand. After a moment, he carefully released his hold on him. "I only came to have a look at the security monitors."

The dark haired man narrowed his eyes at Vision, but reluctantly turned his attention back to his work, skin still crawling with the nearness of the artificial lifeform.

A moment later, Vision abruptly asked, "I make you uncomfortable, don't I?" making Bucky pause briefly in his work before continuing.

"Yeah," he admitted eventually. He figured he might as well be up front. It wasn't as though it weren't obvious, after all.

"Why?" The technopath asked curiously, no hint of hurt in his melodious voice as he tilted his head to one side. "Because I am an artificial lifeform? I understand that that makes some humans uncomfortable," he guessed.

"No," Bucky replied flatly, eyes still on his task as he made the careful adjustments to the delicate machinery in his hand.

This answer seemed to take Vision by surprise, peaking his interest and encouraging him to take the seat next to the former soldier. "May I be of assistance?" He asked politely.

Bucky finally looked at him, expression wary. The look only brought a smile of amusement to the other man's face as he added, "I _am_ a technopath. I believe you will find I am more than capable recalibrating the machinery in your artificial limb."

The shorter man hesitated, then offered Vision his miniature screwdriver, not entirely sure of what made him decide to allow the AI to work on him. After all, if he screwed up, it wasn't as though there were any record of how to repair his arm. Perhaps Scott could, with some time, but it would be inconvenient at best, and potentially agonizing at worst. If they were forced to remove the entire limb, Bucky would have to be anesthetized until it could be reattached. The root of the machinery was too tightly intertwined with his nervous system, even if the arm itself couldn't feel much.

Vision waved off the proffered tool, and simply leaned in to look at Bucky's hand. Or he thought that was what the AI was doing, until he too looked and realized that pieces were realigning with a speed and precision that would have been impossible for him.

"So, if it is not the nature of my birth that makes you uncomfortable, then what is it?" Vision asked without looking away from his task.

Sitting back, Bucky watched the Avenger work, mulling over his answer and whether or not to give it. Eventually, though, he replied, "It's your eyes."

"My eyes?" Vision asked, sounding incredulous as he looked up at Bucky, gray eyes wide with surprise at this strange answer. The other man immediately averted his own gaze though, prompting the AI to continue. "What about them discomfits you? Is their color unacceptable?"

"No," Bucky ground out, one knee bouncing unconsciously as he watched the monitors without really seeing anything on them. "They just-" he waved his good hand vaguely as he scowled. "There's something about them that makes me feel like you can see right through me. Like all the monstrous shit I did for all those years is written on the inside of my skull for you to read."

"I would not judge you for actions that were not truly your own, Bucky Barnes," Vision said, brow furrowed sympathetically. "I am well aware of the nature of your existence these past seventy years."

Bucky only grunted, lips pressed into a thin line.

"If it makes you feel better," the AI continued after a moment, "The workings of your mind are as much a mystery to me as anyone else's. While I have a vast array of knowledge at my disposal, and the ability to manipulate technology," here he gestured to Bucky's own hand, "I have no ability to see your thoughts or memories."

The ex-soldier listened, jaw set. He already knew all of this, of course, but somehow it _did_ help to hear it from the source.

"Our Scarlet Witch is the only one here with that particular skill."

Bucky winced, but nodded, knowing this as well. As a rule, Wanda didn't poke around in people's heads, and looking into their memories was something that took active effort on her part anyway. He had vague memories of her attempting to do just that to him in the early days of his arrival at the compound, but they were foggy, and he knew that she had long since learned her lesson on that front.

Still, for some reason, the idea of Vision seeing what he had done bothered the man far more than the thought of Wanda doing the same. Possibly because Wanda, at least, was human (or close enough) and had her own demons to deal with. Vision, on the other hand...was perfect.

Created perfect, springing forth fully formed into the world to protect humanity against all forms of threat, including the monster he might have been had fate not intervened. Vision was like some deity of myth and legend; an _actual_ deity, unlike Thor and his kin.

"There, all done."

Bucky blinked down at his hand as Vision sat back and carefully returned the protective exo-plates to his palm. A process that normally took him hours had taken the AI only minutes.

"I would have finished more quickly, but I thought you would appreciate me taking my time, considering the importance of the task," Vision said.

The former soldier stared at the man for a moment before a snort escaped him, which rapidly changed into a chuckle, and then into an outright laugh.

Vision seemed taken aback by the reaction, and Bucky couldn't blame him. He wasn't entirely sure why, but somehow making eye contact with the artificial lifeform no longer discomfited him the way it once had.

"Thanks," he said, flexing his hand experimentally. It moved fluidly, with nary a click to be heard no matter how he tightened, stretched, or bent the appendage. "Pretty good work."

"You're welcome," Vision said, words slow as he tilted his head thoughtfully, watching Bucky as he tested the limb for a moment before getting to his feet and heading for the door.

"I-" the technopath began as he paused in the doorway, hesitating when Bucky turned to look at him, brow furrowed. "I do hope we might become friends, Bucky Barnes. In time."

Taken aback by the vulnerability in the other man's crimson features, Bucky was quiet for so long that Vision actually turned to leave before he replied, "Bucky."

"Excuse me?" The other man asked, confused.

"Just...call me Bucky for starters."

A smile spread over Vision's face and the former soldier saw a ghost of Steve's own in it, making his heart jump unexpectedly.

"Thank you, Bucky," the technopath said and turned to leave, only to stop once again. "As a future friend, would it be impertinent of me to voice another hope?"

Bucky's expression twisted into one of confusion, but curiosity prompted him to say, "I guess not?"

Vision nodded, then said, "I hope you will stop avoiding the Captain soon. Your avoidance of him today has made him terribly unhappy. He gives you your space, but it is plain even to me that it pains him. He cares for you very deeply, after all."

Stunned, Bucky watched Vision nod and smile once more before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

The man knew of course that Steve would rather he _didn't_ avoid him, but did it really cause him outright pain? Or was Vision exaggerating? He _was_ new to the whole 'life' thing, after all. Maybe he simply didn't understand…

Still, maybe it would be best to stop avoiding Steve. He'd run from his best friend for years, was now really the time to take up the habit again just because he'd had a fit of nerves when they'd danced the day before?

Feeling thoughtful, Bucky packed up his toolkit and then sat back in his chair to watch the security monitors, his thoughts miles away with a man who was about to step onto the dance floor at long last.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Also, I already had two sequels for this planned (well, one and a half. One was more of a sort of short/intermission), and Civil War gave me a great way to work with the short, so look forward to it!

Remember to drop a review so I can actually keep up the inspiration to write all that madness 8'D


	8. Guilty as Charged

**Author's Note:** Decided to post this a little early since I've got a friend coming up tomorrow and might not have a chance for the next few days, so enjoy! This is a short chapter again, but I promise we'll start getting back into long ones soon!

Thanks, as per usual, to my beta/sister nighttimelights! Also, make sure to drop a review if you enjoyed, it only takes a moment and they really make my day and inspire me to keep working on this fic!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Eight: Guilty as Charged

Steve felt as though his skin were trying to crawl away without him when the DJ came on over the loudspeaker and announced that the opening dance was about to commence. He made eye-contact with Natasha across the room. The redhead crooked her finger, summoning him to her side.

The man sighed but pushed his way through the throng of people to collect his dance partner, figuring he would have an easier time wading through the crowd than her. She smiled up at him when he arrived and offered his arm.

"Ready?" He asked.

"I think I'm the one that should be asking _you_ that," she said and looked him full in the face, taking in the tightness around his eyes and the way he clenched his jaw. She hesitated, expression serious before quietly offering, "You know, I'll cover for you if you want to disappear for this...You could just say you stepped out back and didn't hear the announcement."

Steve's features softened and he smiled down at his friend, touched by her offer. "Thanks, Nat, but no. I'll never hear the end of it from Tony if I do," he sighed.

"Damn right you won't," said a voice from behind the pair of them, making them turn.

Tony stood there with Pepper on his arm, dressed to the nine's and grinning wickedly up at Steve.

"I've got good money on you to step on Natasha at least six times this dance," the shorter man said, then winced when Pepper pinched him. "Ow! Hey!"

"I'm sorry, Steve," the woman said with an apologetic smile. "If it makes you feel better, I've got money on you to make it through without a single-misstep."

"Thanks, Pepper," Cap said, nerves calming some in the face of her faith. As he turned his attention back to Tony, though, he would have sworn he saw his female friends share a knowing smile between them.

"Her bet's got long odds," Tony mused before finishing his glass of champagne and handing it off to a passing waiter. "I think the pressure of running the company might have finally gotten to her. Sad, really," he added behind his hand to Steve, earning himself another pinch.

All four glanced up when the DJ made the final call for the dancers to come to the floor for the opening ceremony. Steve grimaced and Tony smirked as he waved for Natasha and the super-soldier to lead the way.

As the crowd of ball-goers gathered around the dance floor, Steve, Natasha, and the other Avengers took their places. Tony lead Pepper to a place not far from them, and he winked at Steve over his partner's shoulder, making the blond roll his eyes in turn.

Noticing the exchange, Natasha murmured, "Okay, you know this means we _really_ have to kick his ass, right?"

"And you told me not to bring my shield," Steve said, a smile pulling at his lips as he looked down at the redhead and took her hand in his.

"You know what I mean," she said with a snort as she placed her other hand on his shoulder, and his went to her back. "Just...do Bucky proud, yeah?" The spy added, watching his face closely for a reaction to her words.

Steve didn't disappoint, his blue eyes widening slightly before crinkling at the corners as he smiled down at her.

"Yeah," he said, entertained by the idea of relating his 'defeat' of Tony Stark to his friend later that evening.

The music started and Steve took a deep breath… then they were away, spinning gracefully across the floor with nary a misstep.

They swept past Sam and Wanda who were keeping things a good deal more simple than they were. It occurred to Steve, then, that Natasha really ought to have been teaching them as well, rather than spending so much time focusing on him. It wouldn't have even been hard to teach them all at the same time… Sure, he probably wouldn't have learned as much, but-

The super-soldier narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Nat, who blinked at him and asked, "What? Something on my face?"

"Why didn't you teach Wanda and Sam as well?" He asked as they moved past Scott and Hope. They were doing better than the others, but were definitely not moving with the same skill as they were. "Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"Well," the redhead began, refusing to meet his eyes. She didn't have to say anything, though, as the final pieces clicked into place in Steve's mind.

"You _knew_ about Pepper's bet with Tony, didn't you?" He hissed quietly, and the spy wrinkled her nose at him, knowing she'd been caught.

Natasha kept quiet for a moment as they danced past Tony and Pepper, the former staring at the pair of them, aghast, as the latter grinned triumphantly and leaned in to whisper something in her partner's ear.

When they were safely out of hearing, the spy admitted "Alright, so Pepper _might_ have mentioned that Tony had a bet going with Rhodes and Hill about the opening dance." Seeing the disapproving twist of his lips, she continued hurriedly, "What, you _wanted_ to prove Tony right? Come on, isn't it worth it just for that look?" She asked with a frankly evil smile as she briefly took the lead and turned them so he could see their friend's shocked expression again.

Seeing it, Steve couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, alright, fine," he mused. "It was worth it."

Natasha nodded. "Besides, I talked with Sam and the others about it first, and they were all for it."

The blond arched a brow at her conniving, then rolled his eyes and decided to let it go.

"Well, so long as it was a team effort," he said with a chuckle. "I have no idea how you managed to talk Bucky into it, though."

"Oh," Natasha said and blinked. "Uh, he didn't know anything about it, actually. That was all him."

Taken aback by this information, Steve stared at his dance partner and very nearly missed a step in his surprise.

"Pay attention!" She hissed, cleverly hiding the near-stumble by spinning herself out to arm's-length to give him a moment to collect himself.

"Sorry," he said hurriedly, pulling her back in against him before starting off around the floor again. Steve did his best to remain focused on their dance, not wanting his friends' efforts to have gone to waste, but he was finding it difficult as thoughts of Bucky and the dance they'd shared kept popping back up. Once again, the super-soldier found himself wishing he were dancing with his friend, rather than the woman in his arms.

Feeling guilty, Steve did his best to smile down at Natasha and push thoughts of his absent friend from his mind. The expression on her face as she looked back at him, though, made him feel distinctly leery of what she might say next.

For a long moment, she didn't say anything at all, simply searching his eyes with hers, though for what he wasn't sure.

Eventually, as the song came close to winding down, she remarked, "We're a sad pair, aren't we?"

"Sorry?" He said, brow furrowed in puzzlement. Whatever he might have been expecting her to say, it certainly wasn't that.

"Well," she began, smiling ruefully up at him, "here we are, attending a ball together, and neither of us is able to dance with the person we'd most like to."

The look of regret in the woman's green eyes was all Steve needed to know that her thoughts were with Banner.

"I'm sure he's-" Steve began, hoping to comfort her in some way. She shook her head sharply, though, and he dropped it, respecting her wish to not speak on the matter. Instead, he turned his attention back to her original statement as it pertained to him.

"Well, I'm not sure who you think _I'm_ supposed to be here with." He scoffed lightly, hoping to draw some humor from the woman.

His gambit seemed to distract her, at the very least, as she cast him a skeptical look. "No one, huh? Not even a certain someone who went out of his way to teach you how to dance just for tonight?"

Thrown, Steve began, "Bu-" before catching himself and snapping his mouth shut, much to Natasha's amusement. "He's my best friend, Nat," he chided her seriously, blue eyes dark as he watched her.

"So? This _is_ the twenty-first century." The spy countered, then arched a brow at him again and added, "You could be friends and...dancing partners too. The two aren't mutually exclusive."

Unsure of what to say to this, Steve remained silent, and Natasha seemed content to let him mull things over for the rest of the song, which ended soon after. They parted ways to much applause as Tony waded through the crowd to harangue him for 'cheating', while Sam and Scott clapped him on the shoulders, grinning and congratulating him on putting them all to shame.

Steve smiled and thanked them all politely, though his thoughts were still on Natasha's words. They went round and round his head until he felt fit to stumble over his own feet just standing there.

"I think," he said to Sam when the crowd had broken up a little, and others had taken their place on the dance floor, "I need a drink."

The man's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Alright, man. You earned it, in any case. I think I'm going to get my picture of Tony's face when you and Romanov danced right past him framed, though, what do you think?" He asked with a broad smile as he pulled out his phone and showed his friend the picture he had managed to snap, capturing the moment perfectly.

"Better make that two drinks," Steve corrected as he looked at the picture, then dragged Sam off to the bar.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks again for reading, and make sure to drop a review! They totally power my muse!


	9. Snitches Get Stitches

**Author's Note:** Back to a more normal chapter length at last! You will all be glad to know that I'm actually pretty much done writing this fic, now, it's just still going through the editing process. I've only got one more chapter to write, and I'm done! -faints-

That being the case, make sure to drop a review to give me plenty of inspiration to finish up, AND write the sequel ;D Also, thanks again to my beta/sister, nighttimelights!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**

Chapter Nine: Snitches Get Stitches

It was after two am when Steve finally made it back to the compound. The others, intent on keeping the fun going, had gone to an after party of some sort, leaving the first Avenger to find his way back solo. He'd gotten his fair share of ribbing over it first, though.

" _I guess you were right about him turning into a pumpkin after midnight, Nat,"_ Sam had joked when he and the others had found Steve at the bar.

To his surprise, Natasha hadn't teased him as he expected she would.

" _Oh I don't know, Sam. He made it past one. I'll call that an improvement,"_ And smiled at her tall friend in a fashion that recalled him to the conversation they'd had on the dance floor earlier that evening.

His team had left in one of Tony's limos after that - with Stark in tow, of course -, leaving Steve to take their own SUV back to the compound. Though he had done his best to render himself otherwise, the super-soldier was still perfectly sober, and so did not hesitate in getting behind the wheel.

The compound had only minimal staff on hand that night, so Steve made it back into the dorm wing without anyone the wiser. It was quiet and dark as he entered the kitchen and he paused for a moment, allowing the soft, velvet night to encompass him. At first, his own breathing and the subtle hum of the refrigerator was all he could hear in the dark. Soon, though, the quiet murmur of a television reached his ears.

Steve flipped on the lights, blinking against the sudden brightness as he went to the fridge and pulled out a beer. After a second's thought, he grabbed another, then wandered down the hall to the rumpus room.

It was a large space dominated by a television of truly massive proportions. Sofas, recliners, and loveseats of mixed design were scattered throughout the room, though most of them were crowded in front of the tv. There was a pool table to one side, and a normal table for miscellaneous use in the center of the open space. Sometimes they had game nights, during which everyone free would gather and pit their wits and luck against one another. Those were some of Steve's favorite nights, and he smiled absently at the game table as he stood in the door, then looked to the tv.

Bucky sat in front of it, illuminated by its blue glow as he lounged in the corner of one of the deepest sofas. As such, it took Steve a moment to even realize he was there and that someone hadn't simply left the tv on before heading out for the evening. The top of the man's dark head only just barely peeked over the back of the couch thanks to the angle he sat at. Steve had no doubt that his friend already knew he was there, but he went the polite route and announced himself anyways.

"Hey," he said, still hesitating in the doorway, two beers held loosely by their necks between his long fingers. Considering the other man had spent the better part of a day and a half avoiding him, Steve wanted to give him the chance to bow out gracefully without any hurt feelings.

Or at least with his sympathy, anyways. He couldn't say that it wouldn't sting if Bucky decided to continue his avoidance trend, but he was willing to give the ex-soldier the space he wanted, even if he didn't know why he needed it.

The moments before Steve greeted him stretched impossibly long for Bucky. Though his initial instinct was to flee, his conversation with Vision earlier that night held him firmly in place. Besides, after his odd reaction to Steve the day before during their dancing lesson, it would be a relief to face him again and reassure himself that it was just a fluke, that nothing had changed between them.

The thought was derailed as soon as he looked around to greet his friend.

"Hey-" he began, having fully intended to tack the man's name on to the end of his greeting, only to be brought up short by the sight he was presented with when he laid eyes on him.

Bucky's mouth went dry as Steve smiled at him from where he stood in the door, though the intense relief in Steve's expression didn't register with the ex-soldier. His eyes were too busy taking in the impressive figure his friend cut in his suit and tie.

Suits, Bucky decided then and there, should be a Class A felony when worn by Steve Rogers. No one person should have the power to make a man question his sexuality by simply changing their clothes. It was rude.

Even after becoming a super-soldier, Steve had never been one to put much thought into his clothing beyond making sure that his uniform was neat and presentable... so Bucky guessed he had Natasha to blame for the man's choice of attire. The black, English-cut suit accentuated his friend's already broad shoulders and cut a sharp v down to his trim waist to make him seem even taller than normal, while his perfectly tailored pants hugged legs that went for miles.

"Mind if I join you?" Steve asked hesitantly, smile faltering in the face of Bucky's peculiar stare.

"Go ahead," the ex-soldier managed to rasp, his voice only a little rough after his mouth's sudden transformation into the Sahara desert. Steve beamed happily at him, and Bucky couldn't help but follow the man's every step as he moved to join him on the sofa.

"Here, I brought you something," his friend said, and offered Bucky one of the two beers that still dangled from the fingers of his left hand. The dark haired man stared at the bottle dumbly for a moment, then took it, popped the top, and proceeded to down half of it in one go.

Steve's eyebrows shot up in amusement, then chuckled, "I think I know how you feel," he remarked absently as he twisted the top off of his own bottle and tossed it overhand into the garbage can on the other side of the room. The cap clinked quietly as it hit home.

It took Bucky a moment to respond, as his friend chose that moment to unbutton the front of his suit coat with the deft flick of his fingers before lowering himself gracefully onto the cushion beside him with a sigh. It was absurd in the mundanity of it, but the little gesture did strange things to the ex-soldier's stomach that put him in mind of the previous night's attack of nerves.

He took another swig of beer before Steve's words registered, and Bucky's brow furrowed in concern as he looked at Steve and asked, "Did something happen?"

"No," Steve answered quickly, waving off his friend's worry. "It's just," the super-soldier sighed and relaxed more deeply into the cushions of the sofa, "You ever miss being able to get drunk, Buck?"

A bark of laughter escaped the shorter man, and Steve chuckled when his friend answered with an emphatic, " _Yes_."

They both took a long swig of their beers, and Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve proceeded to pull his tie loose and toss it aside with his free hand. As if that weren't bad enough, the blond then undid the top few buttons of his collared shirt and sighed happily at the freedom of it.

Bucky was beginning to realize that Steve taking off his suit was just as bad as him wearing it in the first place. Perhaps even worse, he thought as he surreptitiously watched the muscles of the other man's throat shift smoothly beneath his fair skin when he swallowed another mouthful of beer.

"So what are you watching?" Steve asked, oblivious to the way his friend was watching him, his own eyes on the big-screen tv in front of them as he dropped his head back to rest against the sofa.

It took every ounce of self-control for Bucky not to jump guiltily and for him to answer the question in a normal voice.

"Some restaurant revamping show with a shouty Brit," he said, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the screen.

"You like this show?" Steve asked, turning his head to grin broadly at the other man, who glanced sideways at him and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. Makes me want to never eat out ever again sometimes, though," he admitted, drawing a laugh from his friend.

A comfortable quiet descended over the pair as they watched the show unfold until a commercial break interrupted the bleach-blond star of the program mid-reveal on the restaurant renovations.

"So, how'd it go?" Bucky asked as an advert for laundry detergent took over the screen.

"Oh, fine," Steve answered, pausing to take a sip of his drink before adding "Didn't miss a step. You'd've been proud of me."

Bucky flashed him a brief smile which Steve answered in kind, blue eyes catching the flickering light of the tv as he tilted his head to look at his friend. The ex-soldier watched as the other man's expression turned serious for a moment. Steve opened his mouth to say something, only to shut it again and turn his attention back to the tv.

He seemed to change his mind a moment later, though, as he turned to look at him again and said, "I wish you could have been there."

Bucky blinked in surprise at this confession, taken aback as his heart practically jumped up into his throat. Desperate to deflect the course of the conversation, the man said, "I don't know. I wouldn't have anyone to dance with, and I can't even take advantage of a free bar to get drunk anymore..." his tone joking.

It was clear that Steve hadn't taken the bait with his friend's attempt at humor, though, as he continued watching the man with an expression far too thoughtful for Bucky's comfort.

 _I would've danced with you._

The words were on the tip of Steve's tongue, but he hesitated, and the moment passed.

"Parties definitely lose their charm when the free bar doesn't do anything for you," Steve replied lightly and turned his attention back to the tv as the show returned from commercial break.

Bucky nearly closed his eyes as he reigned in the impulse to heave a sigh of relief when his friend turned the tide of the conversation. He told himself that he did _not_ regret it. Nor did he wish he could have been at the party as well, if only for one dance.

The night wore on, and snacks were retrieved then eaten and a marathon of kitchen-related reality television was watched. It was past four in the morning when the rest of the team returned from their adventure. None of them detoured through the rumpus room on their way to bed, so the pair was left in peace, though Steve was slumping a little deeper into the sofa with each episode that aired.

Still wide awake, Bucky looked over when something warm bumped him, and was surprised to see Steve's own arm pressed to his. As he watched, the man slid down, eyes heavily lidded, until he was low enough that his head rested atop the shorter man's shoulder. Close as they were, Bucky's senses immediately noted the warmth of Steve's body through his jacket and every point they touched, the subtle scent of his cologne, the feel of his breath tickling the hairs at the base of his neck… the sudden influx of sensory data was almost overwhelming.

"Steve?" He asked, voice tight as he began to lean sideways under the other man's weight.

"Mmm?" Was the sleepy reply.

"You're, uh...you're crushing me."

"Oh, sorry, Buck."

The man didn't move, though, and when Bucky craned his head around to look at his friend, he appeared to be dead asleep. Unable to help himself, the former soldier chuckled and sat back against the sofa once more, Steve shifting slightly to follow him.

"Bucky?"

The man almost jumped out of his skin when his friend spoke unexpectedly a minute later. When he looked down at the blond, though, he still appeared asleep, making him wonder if he wasn't just talking in his sleep.

Heart pounding, he asked, "Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're back," was the quiet response.

Bucky's breath caught, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly before answering with a light scoff, "I've _been_ back. Where have you been? "

Steve gave no answer, but a faint smile pulled at his lips as he slept.

* * *

Bucky woke a few hours later to find himself stretched out on his back, propped up against the arm of the couch with no idea just when he had drifted off in the first place. The tv was dark, which surprised him. He had no memory of actually turning it off. The mystery was solved, though, when he shifted position slightly and the remote fell out from under his arm and hit the floor with a clatter that made the man wince.

He tried to sit up, but found himself pinned to the sofa by a great weight. Still groggy, Bucky looked down at himself, and received a shock when he saw Steve sprawled across him in lieu of a blanket.

Heart in his throat and suddenly wide awake, the ex-soldier forced himself to take a deep breath. It was no big deal. Steve had just fallen asleep while they were watching tv hours earlier, and Bucky hadn't the heart to wake him up before dozing off himself. They were not _cuddling_ on the sofa like a couple of teenagers. They were just…

Steve chose that moment to sigh and shift into a more comfortable position where his head rested on Bucky's chest, right under his chin. Half of his long body lay pinned between Bucky and the back of the couch, while the other was draped almost possessively across his friend. When the ex-soldier tried a little harder to wriggle out from under the man, Steve's arm, slung across his middle, tightened and held him firmly in place.

"Steve," the ex-soldier hissed as he heard footsteps coming down the hall from the kitchen. He shook the man sprawled across his lap, but to no avail. The super-soldier just muttered something incomprehensible and buried his face in Bucky's chest.

Frankly, it was a wonder that the frantic pounding of the shorter man's heart hadn't woken him.

Swearing silently, Bucky stopped trying to get up, and ducked himself further down instead. Granted, this just pushed him further under Steve so the other man's head now rested in the crook of his neck, but maybe, if they were very lucky, whoever was coming wouldn't see them.

There was a quiet sound of crunching as someone - a man by their tread, Bucky's experience told him - entered the room, and an accompanying quiet clink of silverware against the side of a bowl. Despite the ex-soldier's fervent prayers to a higher power, Scott shambled into view a moment later, apparently looking for something. As soon as he laid eyes on Bucky and Steve he froze, spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth.

There weren't many people who wouldn't turn tail and run at the death glare the Winter Soldier was giving the newest Avenger, so Bucky had to give Scott points for not doing so… on the other hand, he really wished the ex-con had.

"I was just… looking for the remote," Ant-man said slowly as he lowered his spoon back into his bowl.

Still glaring, Bucky pointed down at the ground with his free hand where the tv controller had fallen, and watched as Scott slowly grabbed it.

"You didn't see this," the ex-soldier said flatly, implying the position he and the Captain were in, even as he cursed his friend silently for putting them there in the first place.

Scott looked them over for a thoughtful moment as he took another bite of his cereal, chewed and swallowed, then asked, "Just uh…what is _this,_ exactly?"

"Nothing," Bucky insisted.

"Then why does it matter if I see it?" Scott asked with the beginnings of a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Bucky opened his mouth to snap at the man, but shut it again just as quickly. Scott had a point, but at the same time he felt distinctly embarrassed by the situation he and his friend had been caught in by their teammate. If it really was nothing, though, shouldn't it not matter?

"Hey look, man, I don't judge people on who they wanna spoon in their down time," Scott said, his smile turning into a more genuine one as he witnessed the emotional conflict play out across the other man's face. When Bucky shot him a suspicious look, the man raised his free hand and said, "I'm no snitch, either. And I went to prison, so you know I actually mean that."

The ex-soldier snorted, but toned down his look enough that Scott no longer felt that Bucky was trying to turn his skull inside out with the weight of his gaze alone.

"So I'll just, uh…leave you to it, then," the one-time criminal said and backed out of the room after carefully placing the remote control on the arm of the sofa.

When the other man was gone, Bucky heaved a tired, frustrated sigh, and was tempted to just go back to sleep then and there. The prospect of someone more likely to 'snitch' finding him in that position proved too much of a dissuasion to make him seriously consider it, though.

"Steve! Get up and go sleep in your own bed, dammit!" he grumbled, giving the super-soldier a solid shake.

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Steve grumbled, sounding reluctant but quite awake as he pushed himself upright, careful not to crush Bucky's legs under him in the process.

Horrified, Bucky demanded, "Have you been awake this entire time?!"

"No," Steve countered guiltily. He would have stopped there, but the look his friend gave him compelled him to add, "Just since Scott came in. Seemed awkward to say something then."

It was a lie, but the blond just couldn't quite bring himself to admit the truth to the other man. It was a rare impulse for Steve, so he allowed himself the little falsehood this once. It wasn't like he could just _tell_ Bucky that he'd been awake since the other man first dropped the remote on the floor, but hadn't moved out of a selfish desire for a few more minutes of contact with his friend. He'd just been so comfortable. So, figuring he wouldn't soon have another opportunity, Steve had taken advantage of the situation.

"It's not like it's a big deal," Steve said when Bucky didn't reply. The cold shoulder continued, though, forcing the super-soldier to try another route. "Sorry, Buck. I'll make you pancakes to make up for it," he offered.

Bucky scoffed and got to his feet as Steve looked down at the rumpled mess his suit had become and winced. He'd have to get back to his room without Natasha seeing him, or there'd be hell to pay. He looked around when his friend stalked out of the room and frowned, wondering if he had gone too far this time.

His worry was allayed when Bucky stuck his head back around the door and declared, "There had better be _bacon_ with those pancakes," then disappeared once more.

Smiling to himself, Steve went to get changed before starting on breakfast.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Remember to drop a review to make sure I have plenty of muse juice to finish the last chapter and get a start on the sequel! ;D


	10. Not Alone

**Author's Note:** Feels ahoy! Have fun with this chapter, guys, I know I did!

Also, I don't know if anyone else is having this issue, but FF hasn't been letting me reply to notes, so I apologize if you sent me one with a question and I didn't answer. Hope they fix it soon, because it's definitely annoying!

So, to the person who was asking if there's only one chapter left, the answer is NO, lol, I was just saying that I had one chapter left to _write_ , which is quite different XD There will be 19 chapters total to this fic, and I'm working on number 19 now!

Thanks again to my beta, nighttimelights, who baptized this chapter with her super special editor tears while working on it XD

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**

Chapter Ten: Not Alone

A week passed and the world outside the compound remained relatively calm, with only a few short missions requiring action from the Avengers. Hydra, persistent cancer on the world that it was, seemed to be up to something, but none of their leads had come to anything thus far. None of them liked to sit around and wait, but it seemed they had no other choice for the time being.

Steve rocketed into wakefulness sometime after midnight, finely honed senses shrieking that he wasn't alone in his bedroom.

The first Avenger sat bolt upright in bed, and was reaching for his shield when his eyes focused enough that he was able to identify the person standing just a few feet away.

"Bucky?" He asked, voice rough from sleep as he immediately relaxed and rubbed his eyes to clear them. There was no answer from his friend, but when Steve reached over and turned on his bedside lamp, the other man flinched.

The ex-soldier was pale and sweating, his long, dark hair tousled as he stood at the edge of the pool of light, clad only in a pair of shorts. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but words seemed to fail him. He looked around him instead, clearly confused as to how he had gotten there.

Worried now, Steve remained very still, not wishing to startle his friend further as he asked in a low, deliberate voice, "Buck, is everything okay?"

The blond's words seemed to bring the other man back to himself and Bucky shook himself a little. Or maybe it was a shiver, Steve thought absently.

"Yeah," the ex-soldier said, voice cracking from disuse, forcing him to clear his throat and try again. "Yeah, I just...had a dream I-" He stopped mid-sentence and shook his head, pushing absently at his sweat dampened hair, seeming fully awake now as he said, "Nevermind. I'm fine. I'm sorry I woke you," then turned to leave.

Unwilling to let his friend go in such a state, Steve immediately pushed aside his blankets and slid out of bed. Suddenly remembering he had gone to sleep wearing only his checkered pajama pants, the blond grabbed a t-shirt out of the chest of drawers that served as his nightstand and dragged it on over his head.

"What are you-" Bucky began, furrowing his brow when the sound of Steve's movements made him look back.

"Come on," was his friend's only reply as he nodded towards the door and laid a gentle hand on the shorter man's bare shoulder. His palm was hot in contrast to Bucky's sweat-chilled skin, making the former soldier shudder in response to the touch.

Steve paused at the reaction and grabbed a hoody from the hook on the back of his door and pressed it into Bucky's arms. The dark-haired man just looked at it for a moment, then turned his gaze up to meet his friend's eyes, frowning as he insisted, "You don't have to get up, Steve. Go back to bed, I'm fine."

Steve nearly asked how his friend expected him to sleep soundly when Bucky had so clearly been doing anything but that, but refrained and simply smiled at him.

"I could go for some tea, how about you?" He asked, the non-sequitur throwing his friend as he turned and walked out the door, refusing to argue.

Bucky hesitated, looking down at the hoody in his hands again. It was navy blue with the New York Yankees' logo printed on the front in white, and looked as though it had seen quite a bit of use. Knowing Steve had likely already reached the kitchen by that point, Bucky sighed and dragged the garment on over his head and followed after. He might as well. After the nightmare he'd had, the ex-soldier doubted he'd be getting any more sleep that night.

Having horrific nightmares was nothing new, but actually showing up in Steve's room after yet another bloody rendition of murdering the man in his dreams was. The desperation to be sure his friend was alright had been too much to resist, and quickly overpowered his sleep-deprived mind of its last vestiges of reason. He hadn't even been fully awake until Steve had called his name.

When he reached the kitchen, Bucky was greeted by the sight of Steve leaning casually against the counter by the microwave as it hummed quietly, warming two mugs of water. The shorter man hesitated at the door, then shoved his hands into the pocket of his friend's hoody and ambled over to the island bar. With a deft hook of one foot, he dragged a stool out from under the counter and sat on it, feeling a little incongruous in his shorts and over-sized sweater.

Steve simply smiled at him again, then turned to check the time on the microwave. Right before it hit zero, he popped it open and pulled the mugs out to keep the alarm from sounding and potentially waking their teammates. The digital clock on the stove read two-eleven in bright green numbers, but it felt later to Bucky.

"What, no teapot?" He asked in an attempt at humor to free himself of the clinging memories of horror that had plagued his sleep.

"No," Steve answered with an amused huff as he rummaged in one of the cabinets, pulling out a bag of loose-leaf tea and empty teabags. "I've been the only one drinking this stuff, and it just hasn't seemed worth it to get one."

Bucky hummed in response, shifting slightly on his seat to make himself more comfortable as he watched his friend turn his back to him to prepare two teabags. The movement brought the scent of Steve's hoody to the man's nose, and without thinking the ex-soldier pulled at the collar and inhaled deeply.

The familiar combination of smells had an immediate, almost soporific effect on the man that relaxed his mind and caused his eyes to drift briefly shut. The scent of his friend's shaving cream combined pleasantly with that of whatever body wash he used and undertones of something indefinably _Steve_ that Bucky suddenly realized he had always known. The fragrance brought him back to the night a week before when they had fallen asleep together on the sofa and Steve's warm presence had wrapped around him like a blanket. Though he had been embarrassed at the time, after the night he'd had Bucky now found himself longing for the chance to repeat their evening together.

If he let it (and for a moment, he did), the smell dragged him even deeper into his memories. Back to a time when Steve's scent had been mixed with blood and earth and sweat, rather than soap. The acrid stench of gunpowder had clung to his hair and skin, just like it had everyone's. Sometimes Bucky was haunted by the reek of the trenches he'd holed up in with Steve and the Commandos, bodies pressed in tight against one another, breath clouding in the wet, frigid, miserable winter air as they waited for the latest round of shelling to stop so they could push forward again.

' _Just a little further,'_ Steve would say, breathless but determined as he turned his electric blue gaze on them all, bolstering their confidence with one of his more vivacious smiles. ' _Just a little further and-'_

The sound of ceramic scraping against counter-top when Steve lifted their mugs brought the ex-soldier back to himself and made him straighten his friend's hoody guiltily.

"Here," Steve said as he pushed a mug across the bar to his friend, a gentle smile on his face as he hooked his long fingers through the handle of his own.

Bucky accepted the offering reflexively, pulling it in towards him as he cradled the steaming mug in both hands. It was times like these that the difference between his hands was most noticeable to him. While his right nearly burned with the heat of the cup pressed into his palm, the left only registered its weight. The limited sensory information his brain received from his prosthetic limb in comparison to his natural one was something he had never quite adjusted to. He could register pressure against the limb, but little else, leading to a strange dichotomy of sensation.

A comfortable silence settled over the pair as Steve leaned against the bar, occasionally fiddling with his tea bag before eventually pulling it out and dumping it in the trash. Bucky followed suit, then took an experimental sip.

The scent of lavender coiled up from the cup and the flavor rushed over his tongue, the heat of it almost searing his mouth. He swallowed despite it, and was surprised when another swell of memories rose to the surface of his mind.

"Your mom used to make us lavender tea," he said out of the blue as he stared down at his drink, brow furrowed for a moment before he gradually relaxed into a smile.

Taken off guard by his friend's words, Steve stared for a moment and then grinned broadly at him, seeming delighted by Bucky's ability to recall something from so long ago. While the other man had remembered most of what happened during the war and shortly beforehand, memories from their youth had been few and far between. They were there, though, returning in fits and bursts as Hydra's memory suppression slowly eroded with time.

"Yeah, she sure did," he said quietly as he looked down at his own cup. He took a sip, still smiling, but softer now.

Bucky hesitated and closed his eyes as he let the memories flow, a smile tugging at his lips as he reminisced. "I'd scrape your ass up off the pavement after your latest beatdown after school, and drag you back home," a chuckle escaped him as he looked up at Steve, "and she'd make us tea once we'd patched you up."

"Beatdown?" Steve grumbled, but wasn't able to make an argument in his defense. It was true, after all. He'd hardly been in a position to give as good as he got back in the day, however hard he had tried.

Bucky's mouth twisted in amusement and he took another sip of his tea, only to pause as he recalled something else. "If we were lucky, she'd have enough sugar rations left over to make us those little cookies to go with it."

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Man, I _miss_ those. I still have no idea how she made them so good when she had next to nothing to work with," he admitted regretfully.

"Sign of the times, maybe," Bucky mused absently.

Tilting his head curiously, Steve asked, "How do you mean?"

His friend snorted. "We were all so damn _poor_ back then, Steve. Everyone was. Anything seasoned with more than broth and hope tasted fucking amazing." Bucky paused then, a small frown crossing his features as he admitted, "I still don't remember how she even got her hands on lavender in the first place, actually."

"Ah," Steve said, shifting to lean his other hip against the counter. "She had that lavender bush in a pot she kept out on the fire escape," he explained. "Mom grew it off cuttings she'd taken from the big bush at my grandmother's place upstate before she died," the super-soldier reminisced, expression bitter-sweet. "It wasn't very big, though, so we'd recycle the teabags to make it stretch longer."

Suddenly overcome by a tide of emotions, Steve lowered his gaze and took a long sip of his tea, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. It hurt, thinking about his mother and the life they'd had together before she'd inevitably passed; far too soon for a woman of her strength. She'd never been quite the same after his father had died, though, and Steve had had to watch her gradually wither and fade.

Just like the lavender plant had after she'd passed on, despite his best efforts.

Worse, though, had been the way she had worried and fretted over _him_ the entire time, and what he would do when she was gone. Her small, sickly boy, all alone in the wide, unforgiving world…

Well, not _quite_ alone, at least.

Watching his friend's eyes darken as he stared unseeing into the depths of his mug, Bucky said with a quiet solemnity, "She'd be real proud of you, Steve."

Steve looked up at him then, a pained but grateful expression on his face as he said with a tight voice, "Thanks."

Before his friend could glance away again, Bucky reached out reflexively and placed his hand on Steve's as he put his mug down and continued, " _I'm_ proud of you."

The super-soldier stared back at his friend, who was looking up at him from where he leaned across the counter with an intensely earnest and completely serious expression.

"I-" Steve began, but was unable to continue as he fought for control of his emotions. He pressed a hand to his eyes as he took a deep breath, hating himself for the tears that threatened to escape them. After a moment, his friend removed his hand from his own, spurring him to say, "That means a lot to me… thank you, Bucky," leaving him dreading what the other man thought of his moment of weakness.

Steve was so fixated on getting himself under control, that he didn't hear Bucky get up from his seat and walk around the bar, bare feet padding quietly against the cool tile. He did jump when he felt gentle hands turning him away from the counter though, making Steve drop his hand in his surprise and look at his friend with red-rimmed eyes.

"It's alright," Bucky said, voice uncustomarily low and soothing as he looked up at the other man, awed by the startling shade of blue his friend's eyes had turned in contrast to the red that plagued them. "I remember, too."

The words were simple and might have seemed nonsensical to an outside observer, but they were nearly Steve's undoing.

Once again acting on impulse, Bucky used his grip on Steve to pull him down into a hug, his arms sliding up and around the other man's broad shoulders. He felt them tense at first, then slowly relax as the super-soldier leaned into him, his own arms going around Bucky's waist. His grip tightened after a moment, pinning the shorter man to him as he buried his face in his shoulder and fought to take deep, shaky breaths.

Steve's hold on Bucky was almost uncomfortably tight, but he didn't complain, just waited and mirrored his friend's deep breaths until their chests rose and fell in time, an oddly soothing practice for both of them.

Born in the wake of one world war, they had lived through the great depression just to be thrown head first into a second world war as young men. They had lost so many people over the years, each other included, something made worse when they were plucked by fate from their own time to awake decades later and find the world a very different place.

Bucky had been used as a weapon of political espionage for years, tortured, abused, manipulated… But when he came back to himself, Steve had been there waiting for him, helping him the whole way. His friend hadn't had that luxury. He'd awoken alone, adrift on strange seas that looked uncannily like the ones he grew up in, but so very different at the same time. He had made a place for himself in the modern day, but it had been clearly difficult. No one looked at the world the same way he did anymore, making for a hard, sometimes alienating, transition.

And despite all that, they had managed to find one another again. Their one other person in all the world that could truly understand. If it weren't for the hell they'd had to go through to get there, Bucky might be inclined to call it a miracle.

Together they remembered the people they had loved and left behind. The ones that had fallen in the war, and those who had passed away as time carried on without them. Family and friends, allies and enemies… Every name remembered long after their owners had all turned to dust. They carried the shape of the world as it had been in their hearts. Its triumphs sang in their blood, its evils lurked in the dark reaches of their minds, and the war that had plagued it was in their every frantic breath.

Steve had carried the weight of a world greatly changed alone for years, but now he didn't have to bear it on his own. James Buchanan Barnes refused to let him.

His friend shifted in his grip, and loosened his hold on Bucky. Gradually, Steve pulled away, and the ex-soldier tried to ignore the fact that his friend's hands were lingering on his hips as he looked down at him. The blond noticed his hand placement a moment later and released Bucky abruptly and stepped back, face flush.

"Um… thanks," Steve said, feeling awkward as his hand went to the back of his neck, heart pounding as he glanced shyly at Bucky, who seemed just as embarrassed now that the moment had passed.

The shorter man shrugged and shoved his hands into the pocket of his borrowed hoody. Unsure of what else to say that wouldn't sound trite, he tilted his head back towards the hall and said, "I think I'm going to head back to bed."

Concern for his friend overriding his own discomfort, Steve instinctively reached out to Bucky again. For a moment, the other man thought he was going to take his hand, but at the last second he grasped his shoulder gently and asked, "You sure you're okay?"

Bucky stared up at Steve for a long minute, wondering what he had done to earn a friend who would so readily put aside his own emotional pain to make sure that _he_ was alright.

"Yeah," the ex-soldier said, offering him a smile. "I'm fine."

Steve searched his friend's eyes for any hint that he was lying for his sake, and only released his grip on him when he was sure this wasn't the case.

"Alright," he said eventually, and together they walked down the hall, pausing again when the hallway split.

"Night," Bucky said, voice low.

"Night," Steve replied, and watched as his friend turned and walked down the opposite hall towards his room. "I'm uh-" he cleared his throat, "I'm right down the hall if you need me."

Bucky pivoted so he walked backwards now, hands still shoved in the pockets of Steve's hoody as he flashed the blond a brief smile and said, "I know."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Remember to drop a review if you enjoyed! They really help me keep writing, whether it's on this fic, or its sequel! ;D


	11. Play On

**Author's Notes:** No beta this chapter, guys, sorry! Please forgive any lingering typos XD I gave it an extra editing to make up for it, but you really can't beat a second pair of eyes.

Also, for those of you that don't know, I DO have a tumblr (joliemariella) where I occasionally post sneak peeks, and stucky stuff, and the fanart I'm working on atm!

Make sure to drop a review if you enjoyed, they always make my day and help me keep writing!

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven:  
** Play On

When Bucky returned to his quarters, he closed the door quietly behind him. The man took a few steps into the room proper, only to pause and look around him, feeling strangely lost; as though he were meant to be anywhere but there at that moment in time.

Exhausted, but completely wired at the same time, the former soldier scrubbed his face with his good hand and sighed. His body longed for sleep, but his thoughts were far too turbulent to begin to allow him to rest.

Turning, he went to his gun case and pulled it open, examining the contents with an expression of dissatisfaction. For the first time, the thought of sitting down and meticulously cleaning his weapons put him on edge rather than offering him the meditative calm it normally did. Growling quietly to himself, the man shut it with a snap and turned to his bed.

At a loss, and feeling vaguely overwhelmed, Bucky sat on the edge of the mattress, elbows on knees, and fingers loosely interlaced. After a moment he glanced at his nightstand, then reached over and dragged the drawer open to pull out a pair of headphones.

They had been a christmas gift from Natasha a few months prior in an attempt to get him to listen to more modern music. Normally, drowning out the world was the last thing Bucky wanted to do. He had only just recently regained a full depth of feeling and awareness, and the idea of relinquishing that was frightening to the man.

Right now, though, removing himself from the distractions of the world sounded like pure bliss.

Fetching out his phone, he linked it to the headphones and dragged them over his ears. After locating the little used music app Nat had set up for him, Bucky chose a random playlist on what seemed to be the 'recommended' section.

A slow song began, and Bucky lay back on the bed, head hitting the pillow with a quiet 'whumph'. It wasn't anything he recognized, but it seemed pleasant enough, so he let it play as he reached up and pressed the little button that activated the headphones' noise cancellation function. Everything went muffled, leaving the former soldier alone with the strange song. He never realized just how many sounds he _could_ make out from within his room until they were suddenly all gone. Normally, the lack of sensory input would have unnerved him, but for the moment, there was nothing he wanted more.

Maybe, if he concentrated very hard, he could absorb the quiet into his bones and calm the torrent of emotion that roiled within him every time he saw Steve lately.

Steve.

Bucky's heart skipped a beat and he closed his eyes, trying to push all thoughts of his best friend from his mind. All he needed was a little peace. Just a moment when he wasn't haunted by the feel of his arms wrapped around the other man, or the warmth of his body, or the way his smile tied his stomach in knots…

The song changed, and for the space of three minutes and twenty-four seconds, Bucky actually succeeded in his mission.

At three minutes and twenty-five seconds, though, the opening chords of a familiar song brought his friend right back to mind for some reason. He couldn't immediately place the tune, and the title 'Such Great Heights' didn't ring a bell. Neither did the band name, Iron & Wine.

Bands had such odd names these days.

As soon as the words began, though, Bucky was able to recall exactly where and when he had heard it.

 _I am thinking it's a sign_

 _That the freckles in our eyes_

 _Are mirror images and when_

 _We kiss they're perfectly aligned…_

He'd been sitting on a bench sipping coffee in the middle of Central Park with Steve when he'd first heard the song. It had been the bridal march (groom's march?) for the wedding they had witnessed together.

Absently, Bucky wondered what song the happy couple had had their first dance to.

The thought immediately led his traitorous heart to memories of the first, and only, dance he'd had with Steve. He wished now that he'd had the presence of mind to ask Vision what the song was. It had been light and flowing, with a perfect beat for a waltz. All he could really remember, though, was the way Steve had smiled at him. Their fingers had intertwined as they moved in unison across the floor, uncertain at first, but with increasing grace for every turn they took around the room.

Bucky groaned and covered his face with his hands as the song played on, his heart picking up a frantic tempo once more.

 _And true, it may seem like a stretch,_

 _But it's thoughts like this that catch_

 _My troubled head when you're away_

 _When I am missing you to death_

And oh was he missing Steve, the man reluctantly admitted. He dropped his hands onto his stomach with a pained sigh when he realized his ploy to think of anything but his friend had failed miserably.

It didn't matter that he'd seen him only minutes ago; he wanted more. He always did. It was a craving he'd developed almost immediately upon meeting Steve as a boy a literal lifetime ago. They'd been inseparable from the word go, neither of them without the other when it was possible to be together.

Even before the serum, Steve had an irresistible pull to him, like a star drawing planets into its orbit and holding them close. Doctor Erskine had seen it immediately. Peggy, Colonel Phillips, Howard, and the Howling Commandos had soon followed...Bucky had been only the first of many to be drawn to the light of Steve's convictions, to be held by his devotion, and willingly bound by his selfless kindness.

They'd been through hell together, and there was no one else in all the world Bucky wanted by his side for the rest of his days but Steve Rogers. There had never been anyone else. Never _could_ be.

He wondered to himself just how long he had been in love with his best friend, and the thought drove a lance through his heart. It was followed by a moment of panic as a thought so carefully skirted for so many years finally broke free.

He was in love with Steve.

 _Of course,_ he thought, resigned _Of course I'm in love with Steve._

A little shudder ran the length of his frame, and Bucky laughed weakly as he rolled onto his side and curled in on himself. Music still played quietly from his headphones, though he barely heard it now. The change in position brought Bucky's chin to his chest, and his nose filled with Steve's scent when he buried it in the other man's hoodie.

A best friend wouldn't do that. A best friend wouldn't intimately recall the warmth and texture of their friend's skin, or the weight of them as they fell asleep in their arms. They _definitely_ wouldn't suffer a rush of arousal at the memory of hands lingering intimately on hips, or wonder just what it would feel like to kiss Steve Rogers.

"Oh god," Bucky groaned as he rolled onto his back and threw his right arm over his eyes "I am so fucked."

* * *

"You're up early."

Wanda looked up from the cup of coffee she had been adding copious amounts of sugar and flavored creamer to and saw Natasha enter the kitchen through the far door. Her expression was friendly, but there was a tightness to her eyes that told the witch she had news.

"I like the mornings. Nice and quiet," the younger woman said with a faint smile as she finished stirring her coffee, set aside her spoon, and brought the mug to her lips. She took an appreciative sip before asking, "What have you found?"

An amused expression flitted across the spy's features when she realized the other woman had her number and said, "More Hydra news, finally. Might actually be something worth looking into now that they're starting to crawl out of their holes."

Wanda lifted a brow and took another drink of her coffee. Hydra had been on the move again for weeks, but what pieces of intel the Avengers had managed to get their hands on had resulted in the breaking up of only small cells of the organization with the assistance of the ATCU. They were moving with a purpose, though, and it had them all on edge.

"I already called in Vision, Scott, and Wilson," Natasha said, tapping the counter idly with her fingers. "I need to go find Steve, will you drag Barnes out of whatever hidey-hole he's occupying today?"

The witch snorted lightly, but nodded as the other woman went in search of their leader.

Wanda cast her mental net out across the compound, brushing, feather light, across the many minds within. To her surprise, she found Bucky's unique mental signature in his room. Glancing behind her at the clock on the stove, the bold green digits told her that it was just after seven.

Bucky was not only one of the lightest sleepers on the team, but he tended to sleep the least as well. To find him still doing so at this hour was...unusual.

Vaguely concerned, Wanda headed off towards the dorms, coffee still in hand. Natasha had already headed down this way, she could tell, though she wouldn't find Steve in his room.

Reaching Bucky's quarters, the young woman reached out and knocked lightly on the door. When no answer came, she tried again, louder this time.

"Barnes?" she called, frowning.

Once again, she reached out with her powers, this time focused solely on the mind she knew was on the other side of the door. She always had to be careful when it came to Bucky Barnes and her telepathy. The vast majority of humans, even 'enhanced' ones such as the Captain and Banner, were generally oblivious to her touch so long as she wasn't too heavy handed. Barnes, though...Barnes could _always_ tell the moment she touched his mind with any sort of intent. She could get away simple things like gauging his mood or locating him, but any more than that was difficult.

She had tried, when Steve and Sam had first dragged the Winter Soldier back to the compound that cold, dark night all those months ago. He'd been almost catatonic, responding only to the Captain's gentle voice, and even then, there had been a brief moment of violence when he seemed to forget where he was, and who he was with.

She had reached out to the stranger with her power, thinking that maybe she could communicate more clearly with thoughts than the others were managing with words.

His mind had been a dark void at first, which had been strange, verging on frightening for the telepath. Never had she felt such a thing within a person. What was worse, though, was when she realized that she wasn't alone in the darkness. Something circled her, furious, seething, agonized. Then, for the first time, she had been ejected from a mind by the sheer force of his rage and pain, as though he had gathered all his worst memories and cast them at her like a wave, driving her out of his head.

She'd blacked out, then, and though she didn't remember anything after, the others had told Wanda that she'd screamed and thrashed until they'd had to carry her bodily back to her room where it had taken several minutes for the witch to come back to herself.

It'd taken her a week to work up the nerve to try it again.

His reaction had been less violent this time, but she had still been jettisoned from his headspace as surely as though he had bodily thrown her from him. A silent cacophony of ' _GET OUT'_ echoing in her ears for hours after.

These days, if she dared try, she only came up against a cold, impenetrable steel wall that wrapped protectively around his thoughts. Wanda didn't know if it was whatever strain of the super soldier serum Hydra had fed Bucky, or something else that allowed him to counter her so effectively. Her strongest theory, though, was that years of having his mind manipulated by torture and brainwashing had made him hyper-sensitive to invasive presences once he'd managed to break free of them.

Whatever the case, she brushed cautiously over his sleeping mind now, and a few chords of an unfamiliar song echoed from his dreams and into her thoughts. Curious, she pressed the palm of her hand to the cool surface of the door, and closed her eyes. She applied a little more of her power, spreading herself across the surface of his thoughts rather than trying to break through.

The music hummed soothingly beneath her, and with just a little more pressure, she was able to catch glimpses of memories and unconscious thoughts that flared, then gently faded again like fireflies in the twilight of his dreams. Unsurprisingly, Steve featured in most of them, making the woman on the opposite side of the door smile.

Something shifted then, and she could feel his defenses begin to engage, so she immediately disconnected. Wanda took a moment to catch her breath, then knocked again. While his dreams were deep and pleasant, there really was no reason for him to not be able to hear-

She paused, and suddenly the music made sense.

After a moment's further hesitation, she reached down, and twisted the knob of the man's bedroom door. Finding it unlocked, she pushed it gently, powers at the ready to deflect any sudden projectiles that might be flung her way at her intrusion.

When nothing did, though, she poked her head through, and blinked at what she found there.

Bucky lay, curled up on his bed, legs tangled in the blankets as though he'd tried to cover himself without lifting them and crawling under. His dark hair was a tousled halo around his head, crowned by the pair of sound negating headphones Natasha had gifted him for Christmas. He had apparently drifted off listening to the music that now echoed in his dreams, clad in a blue hoodie Wanda recognized but couldn't recall ever seeing the man wear before.

She stepped into the room proper, and was about to give him a gentle shake when she thought better of it. Bucky was notorious for not liking others in his personal space, and this was her first time ever seeing him in such a vulnerable state. Who knew how he would react to being woken suddenly.

After taking a moment to have another sip of coffee and consider her options, Wanda came up with a plan. First, though, she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. Knowing full well she might regret it later, the witch smiled slyly and snapped a photo of the sleeping man.

That done, she backed carefully out of the room, gently shifting one half of Bucky's headphones off his ear with her telekinesis and closing the door with utmost caution. Before knocking again, she looked down at the picture she'd taken, then opened up her text app and fired off a message with the photo attached.

Her mischief managed, Wanda turned back to the door and gave a loud knock, and felt Bucky's sleeping mind snap into sharp focus.

A moment later, the door opened a crack, and the former soldier squinted at her wordlessly, his frown the only question she would get.

"Meeting in the kitchen," she told him with a smile. "Natasha finally has some intel on Hydra's latest movements, I think."

Bucky grunted and rubbed absently at one of his eyes with the heel of his palm. To the witch's surprise, he opened the door a little wider and plucked the cup of coffee directly from her hand. Before she could get a word out, he took a sip, only to choke and look as though he were about to spit the mouthful directly back into her cup.

"Don't you dare!" she snapped and snatched her mug back as the man forced himself to swallow.

" _That,_ " he said when his mouth was empty, a grimace of disgust on his face, "is a crime against coffee."

"Then come get your own and quit drinking mine," she said with a sniff, then turned on heel and strode back down the hall without another word.

* * *

" _There_ you are," Natasha huffed when she finally found Steve. It had taken her longer than she'd anticipated, making her wish that she'd stopped to ask Wanda to pinpoint him for her before she'd run off.

His bedroom, the gym, his office...all common haunts for the man had been bare of the first Avenger, until she'd finally thought to check the pool in the basement of the main compound.

"Good morning to you too," Steve said with a snort of amusement as he climbed out of the pool, water cascading impressively down his muscular figure.

Long since inured to such displays, Natasha got right to business "We've got a mission," she began while the man grabbed up his towel and began drying off when it became apparent he'd be cutting his swim short that morning.

The woman was interrupted by a beep from her phone. Curious, and assuming the message had something to do with the upcoming meeting, Natasha opened the text log from Wanda. The content was so thoroughly different from what she'd anticipated, though, that the spy made a little strangled sound that was an odd mix of surprise and delight.

Within the message was a picture of Bucky Barnes sleeping, and looking positively angelic in a blue hoodie. Under it, was the message: ' _So, do I get an award or something for catching the Winter Soldier sleeping?'._

"Natasha?" Steve asked, concerned by the strange noise she'd made. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," the spy replied after clearing her throat as she struggled not to laugh. "I was just thinking we need to promote Wanda."

Steve's face screwed up in confusion at her odd statement. "We don't really have any sort of hierarchy to be handing out promotions like that..." he pointed out, then asked, "Just what did she do?"

"The impossible," the spy answered with a sly grin as she turned her phone so Steve could see Wanda's text.

The super-soldier looped his towel over his shoulders and leaned in for a better look.

"Who-" he began, then snapped his mouth shut. Natasha watched, fascinated, as a crimson blush crept across her friend's cheeks before he finally managed to stammer, "S-she shouldn't be in there."

"I told her to go get him for the meeting. Looks like he couldn't hear her knocking through his headphones," she mused, keen green eyes taking in all the little details as she turned the phone back towards her. Noticing the way Steve shifted position so he could continue looking, she arched a brow at him and asked, "Want me to forward it to you?"

"What?" he asked, blush deepening. Hoping to hide himself from her knowing gaze, the man dragged his towel up over his head and proceeded to focus far too hard on drying his hair, a muffled 'No' the only answer the spy received.

Natasha just snorted and said "Well, get dressed and meet us in the kitchen ASAP, we've gotta debrief before we head out."

"Yes ma'am," the super-soldier said from under his towel as the spy strolled out, already texting someone.

A few minutes later, when he'd showered and dressed, he checked his phone and found a text from Natasha. When he opened it, the picture of Bucky stared back at him, making Steve swallow hard and absently drag his hand down the line of his jaw, as though to rub the color out of his face.

Under the picture, Natasha had included the message: ' _Don't worry, I told Wanda not to send the pic to anyone else. Barnes' secret cute-side is safe with us. I'd hate to lose half our team to the world's best assassin if he found out this picture existed anyways.'_

Steve rolled his eyes expressively, only to look back down immediately when his phone buzzed and another text from Nat arrived.

' _Isn't that your hoodie?'_

Steve's attempts at relieving his blush failed spectacularly just as a third and final text arrived.

' _You two are so cute.'_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks again for reading, and please consider taking just a few moments to drop a review! They mean so much to me!


	12. Business As Usual

**Author's Notes:** Finally, some action! ;D  
No beta again this chapter, but hopefully you'll manage, haha. Remember to drop a review if you enjoy, in any case! They make my day and help keep me inspired to write!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**  
Chapter Twelve: Business As Usual

The day was overcast, and a chill wind rolled across the vast reservoir the Avengers were currently observing from afar. At some point, several decades ago by the looks of it, a hydroelectric dam had been erected at one end of the valley, allowing the rivers that came down from the surrounding mountains to fill it. Tremendous amounts of water were siphoned through the structure, powering who-knew-what. No power-lines ran to or from the dam, and in fact, there wasn't even anywhere nearby for the power it generated to go _to._

Whether Hydra had built the dam and whatever it hid, or had simply taken an interest in it was unknown, but it was clear that a great deal of their increasingly thin resources had been committed here. Armed guards were thick on the ground, and intel indicated that there might be some form of android security force as well; possibly reverse-engineered Iron Legion drones reconstructed for nefarious purposes after Sokovia.

"Hope you brought your swimsuit, Nat," Steve remarked in an attempt at humor to lighten the team's mood. No one was looking forward to this fight, or plunging into the depths of the dam structure. It would be far too easy to become cornered and potentially overwhelmed in the warren that no doubt made up its interior. Reports were limited on just how many they were up against, but there was always the worry that Hydra would find what it was looking for and move on before they were able to make their move.

It had to be now.

"Very funny, Rogers," Natasha drawled in his ear via the coms. She and Scott were stationed the furthest from the rest of the group, carefully sneaking their way up the river that gushed forth from the dam. Their go-to plan was to infiltrate the structure via an old maintenance line while the rest of the team made a ruckus up above, leaving them free to do recon.

"What, no one wants to see mine? I feel unloved," Scott chimed in.

"You are _literally_ the size of an ant right now. Not much _to_ see," Falcon snorted from where he circled far above.

"You say that like there is normally something worth seeing," Wanda added slyly, grinning wickedly up at Steve, who heaved a sigh of regret as Scott's offended gasp echoed in all their ear pieces.

Tucked in amongst the branches of an old oak tree a little ways off for the sake of a better vantage point, Bucky lowered his rifle and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The next person to mention Lang's bathing suit area is getting fucking shot."

"Perhaps if we saved the subject of swimwear for a later time," Vision chided them all gently from where he waited with Steve and Wanda. Together, they bided their time in a small building (practically a shack, really) just down the road from the dam proper. It was the last checkpoint before one reached the group of aged buildings that stood between them and their target. The only entrance into the actual structure was located at the very center point of the dam along its crest.

The shack _had_ been manned by two heavily armed guards, but they'd been unconscious as soon as Steve kicked the door in, and Wanda flicked a wrist in their direction.

"Cap started it," Scott grumbled.

"And now I'm ending it," Steve said firmly as he made a mental note to leave the bikini jokes for the compound, since half of his team apparently wasn't mature enough to just laugh and move on. "Are you in position?"

"Yeah," Natasha answered "We're good to go here when you're ready to raise hell."

"Alright," the super-soldier replied as he pulled his shield from his back and slipped his arm through the grip, taking immediate comfort, as he always did, in its familiar weight. "Bucky, hang back and pick them off as you can. Falcon, be our eyes in the sky until I call you in. Scarlet, Vision, you're with me. Keep in mind that we need this dam in tact so we can figure out just what it is Hydra is up to here."

"Uh, plus that whole part where _we're_ inside," Scott added.

"Yeah, winding up in the foundations is really not how I want to go, guys," Natasha remarked blandly.

"There is no need for concern, Wanda and I are quite capable of self-control."

The Scarlet Witch just smirked and asked, "So, are we going today, or...?"

Steve nodded, then took a deep breath and charged out the door, Wanda and Vision in his wake. The pair leaped almost immediately into the air, then swooped down and gripped him under an arm each. They carried him down the short straightaway and dropped him like a bomb amongst a group of startled guards.

One man sprinted immediately for the alarm switch, and the super-soldier let him despite having more than enough time to stop him. They wanted to pull as many people up to the surface as possible, after all.

Sirens shrieked across the compound as Steve rapidly quelled the men in his immediate vicinity with a few quick strikes of his shield, then ran on. To either side, Wanda and Vision covered him, taking out the Hydra agents with ease.

Just as the super-soldier was beginning to think that they might have come a little over-prepared for the mission, though, Falcon said "We've got movement in the water, Cap."

"What is it?" Steve asked with a grunt as he flung his shield and watched it ricochet off a wall to take out three guards preparing to fire at him.

The harsh boom of a high powered rifle echoed over the valley, and Steve turned in time to see a fourth Hydra agent drop dead behind him.

Flashing a smile in the direction of his favorite sniper, knowing that the man would likely be able to see it through his scope, Steve said "Thanks, Buck."

"Keep going. I've got you," Bucky replied, tone solemn as he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath when a sudden spike in heart-rate threatened to compromise his steady hand.

"Looks like we've got some aerial company here," Falcon cut in, compelling Steve to look up and watch as his friend did a sharp barrel roll to avoid several pursuers. More seemed to be erupting from the surface of the lake every moment.

"Scarlet, Vision, get up there and help Falcon," Steve commanded as he raised his shield and blocked several rounds of gunfire, which pinged sharply off the vibranium surface. The assault stopped shortly after, though, as another single crack of gunfire took out his attacker. "Be careful of the dam," he reminded them.

"Yes, mother," Wanda snorted lightly as she sprang aloft and charged after Falcon and his new friends in a flash of crimson light, Vision close behind.

As his partners flew off, the Hydra agents all turned their attention on Cap, and slowly moved to encircle him. The super-soldier loosened his grip on his shield, readying it to throw as he eyed his opponents.

"So what are they?" He asked as wreckage belonging to one of the things chasing Falcon plummeted to the ground nearby and exploded violently.

The sudden noise startled several of the Hydra agents into looking around, which he took advantage of. Steve lunged in and slammed one with his shield in a brutal body-check that sent him flying, while the next two were dropped by a side-kick to the gut and a back-fist left hook combo they didn't see coming. Three rapid sniper shots from Bucky, seemingly from a different angle than the previous ones, dropped three more. The others turned tail and fled.

"They appear to be re-purposed Iron Legion drones," Vision's ever calm voice remarked in Steve's ear as the man took shelter behind a building. Some ranking Hydra agent had apparently dug up a sub-machine gun and was now firing it into the buildings with gleeful abandon.

"Not mine," Wanda said "They seem similar, but they definitely don't look like Stark's."

"Buck, can you do something about the machine gun?" Steve asked when he nearly caught a stray round after poking his head out around the corner of his cover.

"Not from this angle," the other man admitted reluctantly "Give me a minute."

Silence followed the ex-soldier's proclamation, so Steve took a moment to hunker down and process the reports from his team. More broken drones were dropping from the sky, but there seemed to be plenty more wherever they came from.

"Falcon?"

"My group seems to be a mixed bag," Wilson grunted as he climbed, turning mid-air to shoot several drones out of the air before diving again "Heavy on the drones, though."

"Is that what they're doing here? Manufacturing battle drones?" Natasha wondered aloud.

"An entire hydroelectric dam just to run a factory, though?" Scott countered skeptically.

A particularly enterprising young Hydra guard snuck around the corner of the building Steve had ducked behind, only to catch a punch to the nose that dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

"So how's that machine gun coming along, Bucky?" Steve asked as several more heavy rounds ricocheted past his head, forcing him to duck behind his shield.

The crack of Bucky's rifle was significantly louder this time, and heralded an end to the machine gun fire.

"Happy now?" the ex-soldier grumbled, and Steve could hear him rack another round over the com.

The blond grinned and resettled his shield on his arm as he ran out from behind cover, sprinting for the heavy gun before some other guard could get the bright idea to take over for their fallen comrade.

"When you've got my back? Always," Steve said as he made it to the tripod mounted gun, pushed aside the remains of its former operator, and aimed it skyward. Unbeknownst to him, Bucky flushed crimson behind his rifle scope as the other man emptied the clip into the string of drones chasing Falcon.

"Mom, Dad's playing favorites!" Falcon complained over the coms, even as he changed directions mid-flight to go assist Wanda and her own mob of attackers now that he was clear.

"If you're calling _me_ Mom, I swear-" Natasha began, but was cut off as something happened on her end.

"Like I want him calling me 'Dad'?" Steve grumbled as he smashed the machine-gun with the edge of his shield to keep anyone else from reloading and using it against them again.

"Uh, as much as I hate to break up the party there, we need back-up," Scott said, normally sarcastic tone now bearing a frantic edge. "Looks like not everyone down here got your invite."

Steve looked up at his airborne teammates, weighing his options before coming to a decision "Alright. Buck, you're with me, we're going down to assist," he said.

"Roger," the other man replied and immediately set to converting his rifle configuration with quick, practiced movements. It was a custom build he'd developed that let him switch between sniper and assault builds with a few adjustments. "On my way," he reported as he slid home a fresh magazine of the appropriate ammunition, then jumped down off the building he'd been sniping from.

"Right. Vision, Scarlet, Falcon, take care of our friends so they don't come crawling down the tunnels after us," Steve continued "They seem to be coming from under the lake, see if you can take them out at the source."

"Our pleasure, Captain," Vision said beatifically, an arc of golden light flaring from the gem on his forehead to blast several drones out of the air with a single shot.

Sam muttered something about Vision speaking for himself in the pleasure department, but Steve tuned it out as he started towards the catwalk that ran along the top of the dam. He broke into a jog, watching as the remainder of the human Hydra agents rallied between him and his goal. A moment later, the pounding of familiar boots caught his ear, and he glanced over in time to see Bucky fall into step with him.

"Hey," Steve said, grinning, "Fancy meeting you here."

Bucky gave him a flat look, and his friend laughed.

"Ready?" the blond asked as they neared the make-shift blockade.

"Right behind you," his friend answered as he dropped back a few paces, letting Steve take the lead.

The larger man flashed him a smile, then picked up his pace as he raised his shield in front of him. The Hydra agents unleashed a hail of gunfire that rebounded uselessly off the vibranium disk, and though the super-soldier would normally have tried to avoid the worst of it, he ploughed straight on, acutely aware of Bucky's presence behind him.

When they were only a few yards away, the shorter man shouted, "Duck!" and Steve immediately complied, skidding to a dead stop to drop into a defensive crouch. He grunted in surprise when he felt Bucky's boot in his back as the other man used him as a springboard to leap high into the air, startling their enemies.

At the peak of his jump, the ex-soldier sprayed the agents with a few quick bursts of gunfire, then hit the ground in a roll as Steve threw his shield, taking out the few who remained standing.

"What am I, your step stool?" the super-soldier snorted as he caught his shield on the rebound and slid it home on his arm.

Bucky glanced back at him after surveying the now clear route out onto the dam and rolled his eyes "Quit whining, you had your fun, it was my turn."

Steve gave the other man a disapproving look, but it was ignored as Bucky broke into a jog, gun lowered, but ready to raise and fire at any hint of a threat, forcing his friend to follow.

The way across the dam felt far too open and exposed for either of their liking, and Steve instinctively took the position along the outside edge, shield at the ready to ward off any incoming fire should the drones take notice of them. They didn't, though, thanks to their teammate's efforts at distracting them, allowing Steve and Bucky to make it to the door without further incident.

The door itself didn't look like much, but when Steve tried to kick it in, it didn't so much as creak. The force of the blow reverberated back up his leg and made the man stumble backward. Bucky grabbed him by the arm to stabilize him before he could go over the railing at their backs.

"You alright?" he asked, concerned as his friend hopped on one foot for a moment, hugging his leg to him with a grimace.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," the other man grunted before taking a deep breath and then shaking his leg out.

"Try it together?" Bucky suggested.

Steve shook his head, though. "No, it's going to take more than that," he said, then looked around for ideas. The building had been constructed of concrete in the center of the dam stood two stories tall above the rest of the structure, and was completely windowless. The sound of an explosion from above, followed by a cloud of debris raining past them down into the valley seemed to inspire him though.

Glancing up just as Wanda soared overhead, Steve called out over the com "Scarlet, would you mind asking one of your friends to come open the door for us?"

"I'm sure they'd be delighted," was her amused reply.

Both men stood and watched as the woman flew a lazy loop, still trailing drones, and reoriented so she approached the dam head-on. When one got too close, she blasted it out of the air, and just as she sailed over their heads, red light consumed another and shoved it several feet lower in the air so it collided head on with the building.

The resulting explosion rained concrete down on the men, spurring Steve to grab Bucky by the arm and drag him in against his chest as he turned and raised his shield to protect them. Chunks of rock and rebar rained down on them, forcing Bucky to clamp his eyes shut to keep them clear of dust.

"You alright?"

The ex-soldier could feel his friend's voice reverberate through his chest, making him look up at Steve, who smiled at him from behind his half-mask as he lowered his shield. His grip did not immediately loosen, though.

"Fine," Bucky croaked, heart pounding again as memories of the night before resurfaced in spite of his best efforts to suppress them.

The ex-soldier had done his very best to pretend that everything was business as usual that morning when he'd arrived in the kitchen for the meeting and taken his seat at the table. Just because he'd finally admitted to himself that he was in love with his best friend didn't mean that anything had to _change_ between them, after all. His fledgling attempts, though, had gone right out the window as soon as Steve had entered the room and paused at the door, scanning the group for someone in particular. His expression immediately lit with a smile when he laid eyes on Bucky, making the man's heart jump straight up into his throat as the super-soldier had made a bee-line for him, and taken the adjacent seat.

Natasha had started the meeting immediately after, preventing either of them from saying anything, but that hadn't stopped Steve from lightly bumping Bucky's shoulder with his own in greeting. The man had been forced to swallow hard and nod in return, putting all of his attention into appearing as casual as possible.

Steve was going to be the end of him, he just knew it. How was he supposed to keep up the facade of being strictly friends with the man when he kept acting so damn... _sweet_? Bucky wasn't entirely sure how a two-hundred and forty pound super-soldier with a right-hook that could probably K.O. an elephant could be adorable, but he managed it. _Somehow._

Bucky was overcome by that old familiar feeling again, but this time he knew what the alternative to punching Steve was. Honestly, he just wanted to kiss the man when he looked at him that way.

Discomfitted by the thought, the shorter man pulled himself free of his friend's grip and simply replied "Yeah, let's go."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Probably not the kind of action you guys were hoping up in the first AN...8'D -hides-  
Still, make sure to drop a review anyways, and who knows, maybe your wish will come true? ;)


	13. Honesty is the Best Policy

**Author's Notes:** And my beta is back, lucky you guys! I actually waited to post this chapter just to make sure she had a chance to look it over, hehehe. So thanks to my sister, nighttimelights for looking everything over and making sure my comma usage doesn't get _completely_ out of control.

Also, I got a comment actually where someone expressed skepticism that Tony wouldn't ever show up at the compound, but to that, I say: A) post AoU, Tony retired from full time Avenging and turned his attention back to his business, tech development, etc. I'm sure he pops by occasionally, and calls, but I can't imagine that he shows up in person super often, especially out of the blue. Plus I would think that Steve would have safety protocols to warn him with Tony was coming, like a proximity alarm to warn Bucky to hide. B) It's fluff guys, I'm not really here to explain all the little details of how they pull this off, it's not the point of the fic XDDD It will be at least briefly addressed in it's more serious/plot-driven sequel though.

Also also, the same person said that the characters seem pretty ooc...How many of you agree? I definitely try to keep in line with MCU canon as far as personalities go, and thought I was doing a pretty good job of it. I've never read any of the comics so I couldn't speak to that at all.

AND OH THE FIC GOT FANART! I reblogged it on Tumblr, so find me there at joliemariella and search for 'the times they are a-changin' in my tags and it should pop up! Bless Mslead's precious talented self!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Thirteen: Honesty is the Best Policy

Cap looked up at the make-shift entrance Wanda had made for them and frowned slightly. Both he and Bucky had an impressive vertical jump, but even he wasn't confident he could make it. Instead of trying, he moved to stand beneath the hole in the wall and crouched, shield out in front of him.

"Hop up and open it from the inside," Steve told Bucky, who nodded.

The shorter man put his gun on his back, then took a moment to collect himself before running at Steve and leaping up onto his shield. He braced his legs then jumped in time with his friend's powerful upward push, propelling him high into the air. Their joint calculation proved accurate as the man was able to step casually in through the hole in the wall before disappearing inside.

Steve waited at the door, listening for any sound of trouble within. After a moment, there was a brief ruckus, and then the door swung open to show Bucky standing over two unconscious guards.

"Any more?" he asked the dark haired man as he followed him in and closed the door firmly behind them.

"Not in here," Bucky replied with a shake of his head. They turned and headed down the stairs into the depths of the dam.

"Plenty out here if you're getting bored," Sam drawled, and Wanda chuckled.

"We figured out where they're coming from?" Cap asked with a frown as he and Bucky paused at the bottom of the staircase and found themselves in a hallway intersection. They glanced each way before choosing left.

"Vision went under the lake shortly after you suggested looking for the source," Wanda said after a moment's pause. "He hasn't come back up yet."

Bucky frowned up at Steve as they trotted down the hall. "We know how long he can go without breathing?"

"Never thought to ask," Steve admitted with a grimace before turning his attention back to the coms. "Keep an eye out for him. Nat, Scott, how you holding up? We're inside now, heading your way."

"Maybe," Bucky grumbled as they passed through another unmarked intersection.

"I've got you on the tracker. Take the next three lefts, go down the stairs to floor B1, then right down the hall, last door on the left," Nat replied tersely, sounding as though she were rather occupied at the moment.

There was a grunt of pain from Scott's line. Then, "The sooner the better, guys."

Steve and Bucky shared a look then broke into a run, throwing caution to the wind in favor of speed. Before reaching the stairs, they ran into a group of guards who had attempted to set up a cordon to stop their progress, but the pair quickly dispatched them.

Upon reaching the staircase, though, they found a large number thirty emblazoned on the wall, drawing a frustrated groan from Steve when he realized just how many floors they'd have to go before reaching the first basement level.

Bucky scowled, then leaned over the railing and looked down. There was a significant gap at the center of the stairwell, around which the stairs and bannister wrapped.

"Race you down," he said, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips when he glanced back at his friend.

Steve turned to look and realized what the other man was suggesting immediately. He appeared simultaneously put upon and amused at the prospect. Either way, it was obviously the fastest way down, so he clipped his shield into its holster on his back and moved to the bannister.

The blond swung over the rail as he asked, "What do I get if I win?"

Before Bucky could open his mouth, though, Natasha cut in, "How about if you win I don't kick both of your-"

"Nat?" Steve asked, concerned when her com cut out.

"She just got sealed in the back room with the computer," Scott replied, "There's some scientist down here up to who-knows-what shady Nazi science shit."

Bucky was already hanging off the opposite bannister by the time their teammate finished speaking. "We're coming," he said grimly, and immediately dropped out of sight.

Steve could hear a clang as the man's metal hand grabbed the rail again to stop his descent a few floors below, and quickly followed suit. They dropped in sync, all humor of the moment gone as they made their way down. They rolled when they hit the ground and shoved the door to the stairwell open with a bang, then sprinted down the hall, following Natasha's directions.

They jumped over several limp bodies, most of them guards, but a few were likely technicians judging by their dress.

When the pair found the right door, it was locked. Unlike the one at the entrance, though, this door didn't hold up under a joint kick from both men. It flew off its hinges and took out several Hydra agents with the force of the blow.

The room was in utter chaos and their arrival didn't help calm things in the slightest.

The space was large, open, and crawling with drones. In the center of the room was a large machine of unknown purpose that, to Steve's untrained eye at least, reminded him vaguely of Tony's arc reactor topped with a platform and several evenly placed pillars that anchored it to the ceiling high above.

Two drones promptly rushed them and were almost immediately dropped dead when Bucky raised his rifle and shot without hesitation. The former soldier frowned as he counted the shots. Against armored mechanical enemies, his limited supply of ammunition wouldn't last long.

Steve seemed to come to the same realization as they shared a look, and he loosened his shield where it rested on his arm. With a nod, the larger man lead the charge and Bucky followed immediately after as they made a bee-line towards the door on the left side of the room.

Three drones closed in and the super-soldier threw his shield, a grunt of effort escaping him from the force of it. The vibranium disc hummed through the air, a colorful streak that severed one robot's head from its body then bounced off a wall and came back to knock over the second drone before Bucky snatched the shield out of the air. He brought it up just in time to protect himself from the third drone, which unleashed a barrage of bullets from a gun in one arm. The shorter man kept running, though, and knocked aside his attacker's arm with the shield when he closed in, then swung his left hand in a vicious uppercut that destroyed the robot's face, lifting it clean off its feet.

Without a second thought Bucky flung the shield again, lodging it in the chest piece of a drone with a noise like a gong, causing the robot to drop in a messy heap before it could reach Steve. The other man was grappling with another droid, its head grasped in his gauntleted hands as he pulled up, biceps bulging with the effort, his teeth set.

Seeing that his friend's opponent was close to escaping, Bucky lunged in and slammed his left hand down into the delicate circuitry that had been exposed by Steve's efforts and tore out several important looking wires. The robot immediately sagged and the super-soldier let it drop to the ground, flashing Bucky a grateful smile.

Spying several more opponents attempting to creep up behind Steve, Bucky reached out and struck his friend's left gauntlet, triggering the recall mechanism for his shield. The ex-soldier neatly sidestepped as the disc hummed past him and latched onto its master's waiting arm just as Steve spun and lifted it, reflecting the bullets that had been meant for his back.

Realizing that _these_ enemies were human, Bucky pulled his rifle up again and stepped out from behind Cap, firing off three precision shots that took all three enemies down in seconds. Neither of them paused until they reached the door. It was tucked into a small alcove that allowed them some measure of cover. Bucky took advantage of it to fire off a few more shots at the remaining human Hydra agents while Steve peered in through the small window in the door.

It was barely four inches by four inches, and covered by reinforced glass that didn't even let sound out. Steve was able to make out Natasha within, though, and was relieved to see that she seemed more-or-less unharmed.

The redhead's focus was all for the computer screen and the keyboard before her, and she barely glanced up at him when he pounded on the door to get her attention. She shook her head, the gesture clearly communicating that she was doing something important. There was a tall, gangly man with wild blond hair dressed in a labcoat laying on the ground behind her, clearly unconscious. There were no other doors in the room, so Steve could only imagine that this was the control room for whatever the machine behind him happened to be.

"Scott, report," the Captain said as he turned his attention from Nat and back to his surroundings, expression dark when he noticed the new wave of drones heading their way.

Before he could even lift his shield, the closest one twitched, then dropped to the ground in a heap. A tiny speck leaped free, which quickly resolved itself into a full-sized Scott Lang, looking shaken and tired.

"Yeah I'm here. 'Bout time you guys showed up to the party," he panted behind his mask, yelping when Bucky reached out and dragged him into their alcove just in time to avoid taking a round to the side of the head.

The space was very cramped, but Steve's shield gave them cover so Scott could catch his breath and Bucky could continue placing strategic shots to wreak the most chaos amongst the enemy mob.

"What's Nat up to in there?" Steve asked Scott.

"Trying to turn off the security system that stupid Nazi activated," he answered, pressing the button at the side of his head to retract his mask so he could breath more easily. "That's what all these damn robots are."

"These guys aren't actually Nazis," Bucky commented blandly as he shot one between the eyes. "Just assholes."

"The man in there with her?" Cap asked, ignoring his friend's statement, and Scott nodded.

"She chased him in there, and the door locked behind them," the other man explained. "It doubles as a panic room. The seals on the door are too tight, not even I can squeeze through it."

The man grimaced then, as though remembering something.

"What?" Steve asked quickly.

"The guy _might_ have mentioned something about a self destruct sequence too…"

His teammates both winced, but it was Bucky that spoke up first. "We need to evacuate."

Cap immediately shook his head. "No, we have no idea who might be affected downstream if this dam goes now." His friend opened his mouth to object, but was cut off. "Besides, we _need_ to know what Hydra is up to here."

Scott and Bucky both seemed unhappy at the decision, but were forced to agree.

Steve looked down at the door and immediately knew it was too well-reinforced for him and Bucky to get in either. Turning his attention to the room at large, the super-soldier realized they were dangerously close to being surrounded.

"We've got to keep moving before we get pinned down. Keep the robots distracted to give Nat a chance to do what she needs to," the first Avenger commanded, and his companions nodded.

Scott sighed, then closed his helmet once more and vanished from sight as Bucky and Steve charged out, unleashing havoc as they went.

A moment later, though, the sound of Sam swearing echoed in all their ears.

"Falcon, what's wrong?" Steve asked as he held a drone and Bucky used his mechanical arm to reach down into it's casing and drag out an important-looking bundle of electronics. It seemed to be the most efficient way to put the things out of commission thus far. Even so, they were fighting a losing battle as more and more robots appeared via a large door in the far wall. It wouldn't be long until they were overwhelmed completely.

"Wanda's down," his skybound friend reported, and Steve's stomach dropped.

"How bad is it?"

There was a moment of silence during which the super-soldier assumed the other man was checking their teammate over. "She seems okay, just unconscious. Might have a concussion, though, she got caught up in an explosion and the force knocked her out of the air."

Steve winced, and Bucky frowned up at him, knowing full well that they were in over their heads now.

"Take her and retreat to the buildings we passed on the way in," Steve commanded after a moment's consideration, during which he was forced to fend off a barrage of bullets from several drones.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Steve answered emphatically.

Bucky meanwhile was looking out and around, gray eyes narrowed as he sized up their surroundings. Coming to a conclusion, he grabbed Steve by the belt and quickly guided him sideways so their backs were to the huge machine in the center of the room. The drones' attacks immediately cut off, and the super-soldier looked around, then realized the same thing his friend had a moment before.

The robots were programmed to preserve the machinery.

"Come on," Steve said, grabbing Bucky's hand and tugging him up a narrow set of steel stairs onto the platform before ducking down between a series of heavy-looking control panels.

Both men were breathing heavily as they took a moment to recoup in the relative cover afforded by the machine. Just as they had thought it would, the gunfire ceased, but they could hear the robots moving, though what they had planned they couldn't be certain.

"Vision, come in," Steve said, tapping his earpiece hopefully, though there was still no answer, making the first Avenger frown worriedly.

"Lang, what does this machine do, do you know?" Bucky asked as he poked his head around their cover to take a shot at a few brave robots who had started to ascend the stairs. The bullets only bounced off the metal casings of their heads, but it was obvious that their programming ran deep enough that even causing collateral damage went against protocol, so they backed off again for the moment.

There was a moment of silence, and Bucky half-wondered if their coms hadn't simply gone out altogether. He was proved wrong when Scott finally spoke.

"No idea. Haven't really had a chance to look at it, been a little busy," the man remarked dryly, though his voice was strained with effort. "It's definitely hooked up to some heavy duty power lines, though. It'd be a pretty solid bet to think that this is what the dam was built to run."

Bucky grunted in reply, the bulk of his attention now on the door through which yet another round of drones had just emerged, accompanied by a handful of human agents. The ex-soldier turned his gaze to Steve, who was watching the same thing with a frown pulling at his lips as a bead of sweat trickled down the line of his jaw from his temple.

How many times before had they been here, Bucky wondered, suddenly overcome by a strange sense of deja vu. How many times had it come down to him and Steve stuck in some impossible situation, out of ammunition, out of time, running on prayer and flying by the seat of their pants?

Maybe their luck finally caught up with them after all these years.

A small smile pulled at the man's lips as it occurred to him that there really wasn't any other way he'd rather go, given a choice.

Bucky turned and fired the last of his ammunition, taking out three of the five humans at the back of the room, assuming they were the greater threat in the short term. After all, the robots wouldn't shoot at the machinery, but the agents had no such programming to stop them completing their mission.

Sighing quietly, the dark haired man dropped his gun and turned to look at Steve again. Their eyes met, and in that moment Bucky knew he wouldn't regret dying today if it meant following Steve into battle one last time. He would, though, regret never telling the other man how he felt about him.

It was a surprising revelation, to say the least. Bucky had resolved to keep his change in feelings to himself for the sake of preserving their friendship; but now, forced to confront his own mortality, the man realized that doing so would be pointless.

Well, if he was gonna die, he might as well die honest.

Bucky reached up and muted his com, gray eyes meeting Steve's worried blue ones as he took a deep, shaky breath and then said, "I love you, Steve."

The blond man looked surprised, then chuckled and shook his head. "I love you too, Buck," he replied with a rueful grin. "Don't go getting all sentimental on me, though, it kind of-"

Realizing that his friend didn't take the full meaning of his words, Bucky scowled, feeling as though his heart were about to leap clean out of his chest as he said, "No, Steve, I mean I-"

A red dot suddenly appeared on his best friend's forehead, and the ex-soldier blanched. He threw himself bodily at Steve, knocking the man backwards onto the platform and landing on him in the process. The sniper's shot ricocheted harmlessly off the displays they hid between, and Bucky pushed himself up onto his hands and knees over Steve.

He looked down at the man beneath him and said in a low, emphatic voice "I mean I _love_ you."

Steve just stared up at him, clearly in shock, blue eyes wide as true meaning of Bucky's words finally sank in.

Bucky felt himself go beet red at the other man's regard, heart still pounding erratically. He'd known there was no way Steve could possibly return his feelings, but at least it was all out in the open, now. It hurt, but it was the hurt of an old scab finally coming off to reveal the new, tender flesh beneath. He felt...lighter, somehow.

Bucky moved to push himself off his friend, still blushing as he looked anywhere but at Steve and said, "I just wanted you to know, in case..."

 _Just in case we've finally reached the end of the line._

He couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud, but he was sure the other man was thinking it too.

A hand on his good arm stopped Bucky from getting up and made him look down at his friend once more. He'd expected to find any number of expressions on Steve's features; concern, regret, fear, disgust…

Certainly not the smile that greeted him, in any case.

It was equal parts hesitant and hopeful, shy and overjoyed; the very sight of it made Bucky's heart skip a beat.

Steve felt as though he'd completely forgotten how to breathe as he lay there on his back, staring up at his best friend, hardly daring to believe his ears.

The first time Bucky had said the words, he'd just assumed their dire circumstances had gotten the better of the other man and released an unexpected wave of sentimentality. It wouldn't have been the first time one of them had told the other they loved him, after all. Near death experiences did that to a person, and sometimes it didn't hurt to have a reminder that they cared about one another.

This, though - this was new.

The weight of the words pressed against Steve's heart, and as they echoed around his head, he felt lighter than air. "I love you too, Buck," he echoed quietly, his smile turning into a grin as his confession filled the narrow space between them.

The shocked expression on his friend's face spoke volumes to the super-soldier. Bucky hadn't expected him to respond in kind, and, in turn, had no idea what to do now.

Steve did, though.

He reached up and looped his arms around Bucky's neck, then tugged the man in flush against him. The ex-soldier was so taken aback that his arms gave without resistance, his long dark hair falling like a curtain around his face as Steve tilted his head back and pressed his mouth to Bucky's.

His best friend's lips were a little chapped but still pliant against his own, and Steve's eyes fluttered shut blissfully as he relished the contact. After a moment, though, he realized that while he was kissing Bucky, the man wasn't exactly kissing him back.

Suddenly terrified that he'd gone too fast for his friend, Steve opened his eyes once more and broke contact, glancing worriedly up at Bucky, who simply blinked at him. The man's gray eyes were dilated and unfocused for a moment until he seemed to register the concerned expression on the blond's face, and reality crashed in around him.

"Steve," he breathed, voice low and quiet in the other man's ears, making the Captain flush as the sound of his own name sent a shiver up his spine.

The super-soldier didn't have a chance to respond as Bucky suddenly closed the gap between them of his own accord and captured Steve's lips with his own. The first kiss had been sweet and full of longing; the second was hard and passionate as Bucky slipped his arm under Steve's neck to pull him in even closer. Their legs twined and the blond arched under him, seeming desperate for physical contact as one hand roved down Bucky's back to pin the man to him.

"Steve," Bucky said again, gasping this time as they were forced to come up for air, hearts pounding and faces flush as a myriad of emotions roared through the man. Joy, confusion, disbelief, sheer, unadulterated bliss at every touch…

Steve didn't allow him to say more as he dragged him back in for another kiss, twisting so he was half on top of Bucky now. His arms were still wrapped around the ex-soldier like a vice, as though he were terrified his friend might vanish if he let go of him for so much as a moment.

Emboldened by Bucky's enthusiasm, Steve nipped lightly at his lower lip and deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into his mouth for a brief taste. If Bucky was surprised by this, he certainly didn't object, only tilting his head back to allow the blond better access as he returned the favor. One of them groaned, though neither could have said for sure who, so lost were they in the feel of each other.

There was a soft 'whumph' of displaced air, followed by the clang of a body hitting the grating directly next to them, making the men jump guiltily and pull apart as Scott appeared.

The third man landed on his back and slapped the side of his helmet so the front plate opened to reveal his scowling countenance as he demanded, "Really, guys? _Really_?!"

Bucky and Steve both had the good grace to look abashed as they realized they had completely forgotten the danger of their surroundings in the heat of the moment. Steve opened his mouth to say something as he reluctantly released his hold on Bucky, but the engineer cut him off.

"You just had to take five to figure all this out _now?_ When people are trying to _kill us?!_ "

"You all owe me a hundred dollars," Wanda said over the com in a woozy, sing-song voice.

"You couldn't have waited until we were at home, safe and sound, like _normal_ people?" Scott demanded.

Bucky stared, and then realized with a start that while he had turned off _his_ communicator, Steve's had been broadcasting for all to hear the entire time.

Steve still looked perplexed when he asked, "Excuse me?"

Scott slapped the grating beneath him with a hand and let his head drop back with a frustrated sigh. "You just made me lose a hundred dollars to the witch!" he complained emphatically.

"What are you-" Steve began, but was cut off, this time by a very welcome voice.

"While I believe some congratulations are in order, Captain, I have found the source of the drones. They seem to be activating in waves," Vision said, voice as smooth and unruffled as ever.

"For God's sake, take out what you can safely and get up here to help Nat. She's trying to deactivate the self destruct protocols here in the control room, but we can't get to her," Steve said as he sat up sharply, all business once more.

"Of course," the technopath said. "I apologize for falling out of communication," he added after a moment, the sound of explosions echoing distantly through his com. "Finding the exit the drones were using required me to descend quite far beneath the surface of the reservoir, and the tunnels here are rather labyrinthine."

Steve chuckled. "It's alright. You can make up for it by helping us not explode."

Scott rolled his eyes, having taken the moment to recover and catch his breath. He looked at the pair then and asked, "I'm heading back out there. You're going to help, right? I swear to god, if I come back here and find you playing tonsil hockey on the job again-"

Bucky raised a fist and made to punch the other man, who yelped and closed his helmet, then vanished from sight. The ex-soldier huffed and rolled his eyes, knowing that neither of them would be getting any peace on the matter for months to come.

"Ready?" Steve asked quietly, speaking just to him now, a soft smile on his face.

The dark haired man snorted lightly and lowered his head, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. He was quiet for a moment, wondering at the peculiar turn his life had taken. Steven Grant Rogers, AKA Captain America, _loved_ him, and Bucky wasn't sure just how to wrap his brain around that fact. Paragons of virtue like his best friend weren't supposed to love broken men like him; they were supposed to pity them, take them under their wing if they were lucky...but never _love_ them.

Bucky looked up at Steve once more, pushing a few stray strands of hair back from his face as he searched the other man's eyes with his own. No matter how hard he looked, though, there was no sign of pity there, just a bright happiness that made the ex-soldier's heart ache.

"When you are," he replied, flashing his best friend a grin.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Well there you go, finally got a kiss AND a confession out of these nerds in one go!

Remember to drop a review if you enjoyed the fic, they really make my day and help me keep writing!


	14. Fallacies in Scripture

**Author's Note:** You guys will probably be glad to hear that I officially finished writing this fic (though **this is NOT the final chapter** )! It's all down to editing now, but it's 21 chapters long and holy crap guys I'm so happy ;-; This is literally my first time finishing a story that wasn't a one-shot.

Thanks again to my lovely beta, Nighttimelights for her work on this chapter! Remember to leave a review if you enjoy, it helps keep me working!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**  
Chapter Fourteen: Fallacies in Scripture

Steve raised his shield and deftly blocked a bullet that had been aimed for Bucky's temple and said, "I think our hosts are done waiting." The super-soldier's expression turned fierce then as he stood and flung his shield at the would-be sniper.

The vibranium disc struck the Hydra agent in the sternum and knocked him off the scaffolding he had climbed up to get the shot. The shield bounced back and Bucky snatched it out of the air with his left hand before Cap could grab it and immediately spun, throwing it at a particularly determined drone that had been sneaking up behind them.

It lodged in the thing's face and Steve collected it as they both ran past, vaulting the railing in unison to land on either side of another robot. The super-soldier slammed his shield into its back, and his companion smashed his metallic fist into the bot's chest. The combined forces crushed its torso, destroying the electronics within.

"Guys, They're trying to breach the door into the control room," Scott called over the coms, drawing their attention.

Steve and Bucky shared a look, then broke into a dead sprint when they saw the veritable mob of drones surrounding the door behind which Natasha still worked. Realizing that several of the robots were wielding blowtorches that had been built into their arms, Steve knew that it would take them too long to fight directly through the group. The drones stood several deep now, and most of them had turned to face outwards, ready for their attack.

Immediately formulating a plan and having no time to communicate it, Steve put on an extra burst of speed and passed Bucky up, ignoring the confused look the other man gave him. Praying that his friend wouldn't be _too_ upset, the super-soldier skid to a dead stop a few yards from the ring of drones and snatched Bucky up by the back of his vest and belt as he ran past him.

Using the man's forward momentum, Steve spun on one foot, then planted his other and bodily threw Bucky over the crowd of robots, startling a yelp from his normally stoic friend. Despite the surprise, though, Bucky flipped and landed gracefully in front of the door before planting a brutal front kick in the chest of the nearest blowtorch wielding drone. A second was quickly dispatched when he landed a vicious left hook to the side of its head, immediately followed by a side-kick that knocked it into a third.

"What the fuck, Steve!" Bucky demanded as Steve winced inwardly and slammed shield-first into the robotic hoard, knocking over several but not quite breaking through to Bucky at their center.

Before he could apologize, their coms fizzed and Natasha's voice finally reached their ears once more.

"Self destruct has been shut down. Also, _language,_ Barnes. You know how that sort of thing upsets our dear Captain."

"My concern for his feelings goes right out the window when he starts throwing me at robots," Bucky countered as the door at his back slid open and Natasha stepped out, an electrically charged tonfa in each hand.

"I'm sorry!" Steve insisted, but wasn't able to keep the amusement out of his voice as he finally burst through the crowd of robots to join his teammates.

"Trouble in paradise so soon? If you're hurt, Barnes, I'm sure Cap will kiss it better for you," Scott suggested impishly as he dropped another drone from the inside.

Bucky gave a start, and nearly took a punch to the face from a robot for his troubles. Color crept into his cheeks, and only deepened when Steve turned and flashed him a roguish grin over the rim of his shield. The shorter man flushed a deep shade of crimson at the look, and Natasha looked downright taken aback.

"Dear _god,_ what did I miss while I was stuck in that room?" the spy demanded as she rammed one of her tonfas down into the chest piece of a drone through the gap at its neck, frying its circuitry.

"We lost the bet," Sam grumbled.

"What?! The _whole_ bet?" Natasha cried, horrified as she nimbly ducked under Steve's shield and allowed it to knock the head off of one of the drones behind her while she took out the knees of another.

"Yep," Sam replied with an expressive sigh.

"I _won_!" Wanda declared, then giggled uncharacteristically.

"Is she alright?" the spy asked after a moment of concerned silence.

Another sigh from Sam. "She has a concussion. We've taken cover back at those out-buildings we passed on the way in, and Vision should be with you any moment."

"Gotcha," the redhead said, then sighed heavily and opined, "I cannot _believe_ I missed it!" She swatted Steve on the back with a hand and said, "And you! I'm disappointed in you Rogers, not making the first move."

"Told you he wouldn't," Sam said with a chuckle, making Natasha _tsk_ in annoyance. "He may be a badass in a fight, but he's a total wimp when it comes to his personal life."

"You _are_ aware we can still hear you guys, right?" Steve grumbled as he held a robot and Bucky eviscerated it.

"Yeah, _and?_ " Scott asked.

The super-soldier rolled his eyes expressively and dropped the drone he'd been holding. Catching Bucky's eye before the man was able to turn away, he said, "I'm sorry for throwing you without warning, Buck."

The ex-soldier raised an eyebrow, then snorted and shrugged as he turned in time with the other man to slam both their fists into the head of a particularly unfortunate drone.

"Just give me a heads-up next time," he grumbled.

"Alright," Steve said, face lighting with a smile. "Now, about our first date-"

Bucky gaped at him, forcing the super-soldier to cover him with his shield as a robot unleashed a hail of bullets on them. The others dodged to either side but Steve pulled Bucky in close, and they stepped quickly forward in unison, allowing them to close the distance to their attacker so the blond could slam the drone with his shield, rendering its weapon useless.

"I was thinking dinner," Steve continued as Bucky tore the thing's arm off and proceeded to use it as a bludgeon against its former owner.

"Dinner," the shorter man repeated, disbelief coloring his tone as he dropped the useless limb and stared up at Steve, torn between shock and amusement at this unexpected pronouncement.

"Sure," the blond said, his smile turning nervous. "I mean, if you want," he added, confidence wavering.

"I do!" Bucky replied quickly, and the expression of relief that crossed Steve's face made him smile.

"This is so cute you guys, oh my god," Scott whispered with a barely repressed snicker.

"Shh!" Natasha, Sam, and Wanda hissed, but the men ignored them.

"Dinner, though… seems pretty tame for us," Bucky joked in an attempt to allay his nerves.

Vision swooped in through the far door then, the gem in his forehead flashing gold as it fired precision shots at several of the drones he passed. He dropped to the ground nearby and quickly began laying waste to the handful that remained in the wake of his teammate's concentrated effort.

Steve grimaced and raised his shield to protect himself and Bucky from the sudden rain of electronics and said, "Buck, we're at the bottom of a reservoir fighting an army of robots for control of an unknown piece of Hydra tech that does God-knows-what. Frankly, I could use a little tame."

Bucky threw his head back and laughed, a rare gesture from him even these days. Steve smiled broadly at the reaction, feeling the butterflies in his stomach start up again as he watched his friend get himself under control and push his dark hair back out of his face before smiling up at him.

"Yeah, alright. Fair enough," Bucky agreed.

* * *

Wrapping up the mission felt as though it took days rather than a few hours. The support team rolled in shortly after they cleared the base and immediately set up a perimeter as scientists were flown in with all their equipment to begin a study of the strange machine hidden in the depths of the dam.

Everything was going quite smoothly until Natasha realized that the scientist she had knocked out in the control room had disappeared.

They searched high and low but no sign of the man could be found, leaving the spy kicking herself for her carelessness.

"It's alright, Nat, we'll find him," Steve told her reassuringly on the flight back to the compound, one hand on her narrow shoulder.

"But we shouldn't _have_ to. This is on me," the woman insisted with a frown. "I should have taken a moment to tie him up instead of just assuming he was out cold..."

"And if you had, we might have all blown up," Bucky countered blandly, looking up from his inspection of his rifle, a slight frown on his features.

"Barnes is right," Sam agreed. "We can find a scientist; I doubt they'd've been able to find all our pieces if that place had gone up."

Natasha sighed, but nodded reluctantly as Steve gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and smiled at her.

The rest of the ride home was mostly silent as exhaustion caught up with them all. As soon as they reached the compound, the Avengers filed inside and wandered down the hall towards the dorms. Every one of them seemed intent on a shower and bed, or possibly just bed, depending.

Even Scott decided to spend the night rather than make the trip back home. Steve could hear him speaking quietly to Hope on his cellphone from where the super-soldier lingered at the rear of the pack.

"Yeah, no worries, I think we're all wrapped up here, for a few days at least. Unless they need me to consult on whatever it was we found down there," the engineer said, lifting a hand as he tried to muffle a yawn. Hope made some reply from the other end of the line, and Scott smiled. "Yeah, love you, babe. I'll call you tomorrow."

The casual but tender way the normally sarcastic man said his farewell made Steve's pulse quicken as he glanced sidelong at Bucky. His friend was halfway through a yawn before he thought to cover his mouth with the back of his left hand. Steve could see the cool steel surface cloud under his warm breath when he exhaled, before clearing again just as quickly.

"Bucky," the blond said, pausing in the middle of the hallway. Once again they found themselves at the crossroads between their two rooms, and the dark-haired man glanced at him curiously as he too came to a stop.

Steve glanced down the hall and saw that their companions were all too tired to have noticed that the pair lingered behind, leaving them in relative solitude. When he turned his attention back to Bucky, the man had an unreadable expression on his face, head tilted slightly to one side, gray eyes dark as he watched Steve's every move.

The super-soldier swallowed hard, and for a moment he didn't say anything at all. The man felt on the verge of coming apart at the seams as fear and hope battled violently within him. His pulse thrummed in his ears, and a strange, panicked dizziness tugged at him as he stood there, staring wordlessly at Bucky.

Ever since they'd secured the dam, and the support team had rolled in, Steve had been plagued by doubt.

Not for the way he felt about Bucky. That fact, that _love_ , was so bright and sharp and clear in his heart that the man knew there was no greater truth for him in the whole world than the way he felt about Bucky Barnes.

Steve had loved him as a gangly, sickly boy in heart of Brooklyn watching his only friend dance through life with a grin that could incite a riot and a laugh that could make the sun shine on a cloudy day. He had loved him as an equally gangly, sickly man when he was forced to watch Buck leave for the front of the greatest war in history without him. He'd looked so very dashing in his new uniform as he charmed all the girls and went dancing one last time, the familiar line of his broad shoulders the last Steve had seen of him for a long time.

Then Steve had been a soldier; strong now, and far from gangly. He'd loved his friend so much that he'd stormed a Hydra base alone, armed only with a cheap tin shield, his wits, and the intent to bring his friend home if it meant descending to the depths of hell itself.

And in that place for a moment he _had_ seen hell. It had been in the terror written on Bucky's face when he found him strapped to a table, surrounded by ungodly medical instruments that turned his stomach to look at. His friend had been scarred and bleeding, convinced he was still dreaming even as Steve hauled him to his feet. He'd half carried him out of that room, and after all he'd been through, Bucky had been so _strong._ Stronger than Steve, who was hopped up on serum, righteous purpose burning in his veins, relief at his friend's presence at his side giving his heart wings once more.

Steve had loved Bucky when he'd refused to leave the inferno that threatened to consume them both without him. He'd called him three different kinds of idiot later when they were safe, and the fierce, unyielding grin his best friend had given him then had only made Steve love him more.

' _Like I'd leave you behind, Rogers,'_ the man had scoffed. ' _Who's gonna keep you outta trouble, if not me? Just because you've grown three feet up and four feet out doesn't mean you're any less a rabble-rousing nuisance than you were back in Brooklyn. Your particular brand of madness will get you killed out here,'_ he'd said, and though he'd laughed, there was a darkness behind his eyes. ' _No, come hell or high water, I'm with you til the end of the line.'_

Steve Rogers died in the winter of nineteen forty-four when Bucky's fingers slipped through his, and his friend plummeted from the smoking remains of a train car deep in the Swiss Alps.

Captain America tried, and failed, to drown the pain that not even Peggy could help him overcome in the wreckage of a bombed out bar somewhere in Switzerland. Her words, gentle and compassionate as they had been, weren't able to resurrect something that he no longer had. Feeling as much a hollowed-out shell as that bar, Cap had turned his attention back to the mission. It didn't numb the gaping wound his heart sustained to its very core, but it did distract him for a time.

In the end, though, Captain America had died too. As the water had rushed up towards him, and ice had filled his veins, the ghost of Steve Rogers had been glad, finally at peace as the cold and the dark granted him a release from the pain. He regretted leaving Peggy, strong, beautiful soul that she was, but he also couldn't shake the feeling that this was good, that this was right. Steve had never been meant to live in a world without Bucky, after all. He'd only been working with borrowed time to finish one last mission…

Death hadn't lasted anywhere near as long as Sunday school had promised.

Two-thousand twelve was the year Captain America was pulled from the ice and thrust head-first into a new, fantastic, terrifying world. Coming to the conclusion that this was his own private hell, the inevitable cost of the strength he had been granted in a life long past, the Captain had done what he did best: he buckled down and got to work to distract himself from the pain.

He fought a new kind of war. He met gods and allied himself with monsters. He watched as aliens poured out of a hole in the sky that opened onto stars no human had ever laid eyes on, and then he had killed them. The people called him a hero. Other people called him a terrorist.

Slowly, he adjusted, and slowly, life became a little less hellish. Strange became the new normal - though who was he to judge normal in the first place - and new friendships had helped dull the pain a little.

In the middle of a street in D.C., surrounded by wreckage and pursued by the government he had once served, Steve Rogers was dragged from his grave by Bucky Barnes, a man little more than a ghost himself. The pain of it was unreal, but blinded by hope, a dead man lived again.

On a burning ship over the Potomac in the year two-thousand fourteen, Steve Rogers loved Bucky Barnes more than ever. Broken and battered, shadows of the men they had once been, they were together and for the first time since nineteen forty-four Steve had been whole again. And then they had fallen, together this time, into the depths.

Steve chased Bucky over continents and across years to bring him _home,_ but it wasn't until two-thousand sixteen that he realized he didn't just love his best friend, he was _in_ love with him. It had all slotted into place, and the knowledge had brought a sort of peace with it.

Then, in one glorious moment in the middle of a fire-fight, Bucky had said the words Steve's heart had spent a lifetime knowing, and the super-soldier had kissed him, had repeated the words aloud, quiet as a prayer between them. He could have shouted them from the roof. He would shout them for all the world to hear if Bucky asked him to.

"Steve?" The sound of his name startled the man to the present, and he caught the concern in his friend's eyes.

Steve swallowed hard again, unsure how to say what he needed to say.

Bucky had been, well… Bucky, once they had won the day. There had been no lingering looks, no secret smiles. No whispered _I love you_ 's, and Steve was terrified.

"I was, um," he began, floundering awkwardly to force the words out. If he could just say them quick enough, it'd be over. Like ripping off a bandaid. "About earlier."

Bucky quirked a brow, but something about his eyes changed, and the man went very, very still. "What about it?" he asked slowly.

"If it was just..." Steve felt as though he were suffocating, and for a moment, he wondered if his asthma were back after all these years. "If it was just an eleventh hour confession, I-I understand," he ground out, dying all over again. They'd all heard of them, of course, especially in war. People on the verge of death saying things they regretted, or possibly didn't even mean for the sake of someone else, only to rue their words when death never came.

Steve loved Bucky so much, though, he would give him an out, even if it killed him.

"You don't have to-" Steve began again, only for the other man to cut him off.

"Is that what you want?" Bucky asked, expression still unreadable as he lifted his chin to look Steve in the eye.

"What?" the blond asked, confused and nauseous and heartsick. Bucky stepped in close, and Steve stepped back reflexively, his back pressed to the wall now.

" _Is that what you want,_ " Bucky repeated, words slow and deliberate as he moved in closer yet and planted his hands on the wall to either side of Steve's broad shoulders, blocking off all retreat for his friend.

Heart pounding, Steve struggled to remember how to breathe, and slowly shook his head.

"God no," he whispered, aching to reach out and grab the other man, to feel the warmth of Bucky's body against his, the press of his lips, the texture of his skin…

Something in Bucky's face relaxed, then, and it hit Steve that the other man had been terrified as well. Terrified that Steve had only gone along with his confession for his sake out of a misguided desire not to hurt him.

"Buck, I _love_ you," Steve said for the second time as he caved to his need to touch the man, gently placing one of his hands on the back Bucky's neck and pulled him in until their foreheads met. As their breath mingled and their eyes met, Steve said it a third time. "I love you."

He could feel it, then, the small tremor that racked Bucky's body before he closed the remaining distance between them and brought their lips crashing together once more.

It was hard and demanding, a kiss that verged on violence in its desperation. Steve raked his long fingers through Bucky's hair as the man pushed him bodily up against the wall, nearly driving the air from the blond's lungs. Steve used his grip on Bucky's hair to pull his head back and slipped his tongue into his mouth, startling a moan from the other man. The former soldier's hands slipped down to his friend's hips and grabbed them, strong fingers digging into the flesh there.

Unexpectedly, Bucky used his hold to press his hips against Steve's, pinning the super-soldier to the wall and making him gasp at the contact. The dark haired man took advantage of his moment of weakness to take control of their kiss. His left hand went to the back of Steve's head, and his right roved hot and desperate under the fabric of his friend's shirt. Bucky thrust against him again, and Steve could feel himself losing any sense of control he'd fooled himself into thinking he'd had over the situation.

Distracted as they were, though, neither of them quite missed the quiet sound from the kitchen. They froze, suddenly recalling themselves and their whereabouts. Carefully, deliberately, they disentangled from one another, and Bucky took a step back, allowing Steve to finally step away from the wall.

"Jesus- _fucking_ -Christ," the shorter man mumbled, right hand shaking as he ran it through his wild, dark hair and stared at Steve, a naked hunger on his face.

Lips swollen from the kiss, the blond smiled, embarrassed by his lapse but already longing for the next.

Another sound. Apparently someone had taken the other hall to get to the kitchen for a snack. Steve could only count their blessings that they'd gone around the other way. He'd put good money on it being Scott. His room was at that end of the hall.

"Well," Bucky said, voice low, eyes intense as he watched his friend closely, "Hope that puts your fears to rest."

"I wouldn't say no to a little reassurance," Steve replied, then flushed, the words out before he could think twice.

Bucky shot him a canny look, then stepped in to kiss the blond again. Steve was both terrified and elated at the prospect. Addicted to the sensation but not precisely wanting to be caught making out in the hall like some sort of errant teenager, he didn't turn away.

To his surprise, though, Bucky changed course at the last moment and pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek instead. His lips, warm and soft and still a little chapped, lingered against the fine stubble there, and the blond felt his eyes slip shut at the bliss of the surprisingly intimate, if innocent, gesture.

Bucky pulled away, then cuffed Steve lightly on the temple.

"Goodnight," the dark-haired man said with a huff, then turned and left before some small gesture or look from Steve kept him there for the rest of the night.

Smiling, fingers absently trailing over his cheek, Steve said, "Night."


	15. The Truth is in the Stars

**Author's Note:** My beta, nighttimelights, is sick this week, so please excuse any additional errors lurking in the text!

Also, make sure to drop a review if you enjoyed, they really help me keep writing, especially if you guys want a sequel! ;D

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Fifteen: The Truth is in the Stars

The next few days were blissfully quiet in the wake of their mission to the dam, and everyone slipped easily back into their usual routines.

Well, mostly.

The entire team watched Bucky and Steve with great interest as the pair tried to wrap their minds around the shift in their relationship. One moment they would be speaking normally, as though nothing had changed. The next, some casual brush of the hand or meaningful word from one or the other would make them both pause and smile shyly, or laugh as nerves got the better of them.

"I'm going to get a cavity if this keeps up much longer," Wanda complained to Natasha the morning of the third day after their return from the dam.

She had fully recovered from her fall, and had gone out onto the roof for some fresh air, only to find the spy watching everyone's favorite couple down below on the shooting range. Bucky was supposedly helping Steve work on his long distance shooting, but it seemed to her like he was just looking for an excuse to be as close to the other man as possible. The ex-soldier had taught her how to work a rifle as well, not long ago, and he certainly hadn't leaned in that close, or been that hands on (literally) with _her_. Steve didn't seem to be complaining, though.

Natasha turned to her, a rueful smile on her face. "Right? It really is getting ridiculous," she complained as she leaned casually against the railing, full lips twisted in amusement. "Considering that they're two of the bravest men I know, the fact that neither of them has worked up the nerve to take things to the next stage is kind of hilarious. It's so obvious that they want to," she said and snorted.

"Maybe," Wanda mused, meeting the other woman's bright green eyes, "They just need a little push?"

They both watched in thoughtful silence for a moment as Steve lined up to take a shot at the target placed at furthest stretch of the firing range. The big man was stretched out on the ground in a traditional sniper position, but his head was canted slightly to one side to listen to whatever Bucky was saying. The former soldier sat on the ground next to him, expression serious as he spoke, left hand glinting in the afternoon sunlight when he gestured downrange.

"Take a deep breath, and don't fire until you've exhaled," Bucky reminded Steve "Slow pulse, steady hand."

"I _have_ had training, you know," the blond remarked with a snort as he put his eye to the scope, bringing the distant target into focus.

Bucky scoffed. "That crash course they gave you back when you enlisted hardly counts. They don't teach you any of the subtleties of the art," the man insisted, then gave his friend a side-long glance. "And don't complain when I correct you. _You_ were the one that asked for a lesson."

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly and said, "Yeah, well," not quite willing to admit that he'd mostly made the suggestion for the sake of spending more time with Bucky. Honestly, he didn't really care _what_ they did, but he knew that giving Steve a lesson in what he was best at was something the other man would readily get behind.

"Yeah, well," Bucky mimicked, his teasing tone bringing a smile to Steve's face even as he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. "Come on, Rogers. Calculate the distance, gauge the wind, do your math, and fire."

Most snipers had a great deal of equipment, as well as a spotter, when they were doing particularly long shots, but neither Bucky nor Steve required them. One useful side effect of super-soldier serum was an uncanny ability to measure the world around them, and perform complex calculations in their heads. Steve most commonly used it to determine the angle at which to throw his shield to make sure it would return, but it certainly had its use in sniping.

Just before he could pull the trigger, though, Bucky said, "Relax your shoulders some, you're too tight."

Steve rolled his shoulders a little in an effort to do as instructed, but apparently it wasn't enough, as Bucky reached out and brushed his hands across his back. He leaned in a little to adjust the blond, and Steve felt his pulse quicken at the casual touch. It only got worse when Bucky finished repositioning him to his liking, and allowed his right hand to drift down the line of his spine to rest on his lower back.

"There, try now," the dark haired man murmured, then watched as Steve took a deep breath, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

The deafening boom of the rifle was automatically muffled by the 'smart' earbuds they both wore, and Bucky picked up his spare scope and used it to look downrange at the target.

"Not bad," he said. "Pulling a little left, though." Steve made a noncommittal noise and a smile tugged at Bucky's lips as he added casually, "I had thought maybe you had just asked me out here as an excuse to spend some time together, but I guess you really do need a lesson."

He delighted in the glare Steve shot him, loving the way his brow furrowed and his lips twisted in an attempt not to smile at his jab.

"Here, _you_ take a shot, then, oh Master," Steve growled lightly as he pushed the gun into Bucky's hands. "Show your unworthy student how it's done."

A laugh escaped the ex-soldier, but he complied, and accepted the rifle before sliding down onto his stomach to assume the appropriate stance. Steve rolled onto his side to watch, head propped up on his hand, the mischievous smile tugging at his lips going unnoticed by the other man as he did his mental math.

Bucky's shirt had ridden up his back with his change of position, revealing a tantalizing strip of lightly tanned skin. Just as he knew the other man was preparing to take the shot, Steve reached out and slipped his calloused fingers along the exposed area, then allowed his palm to rest there, a warm presence on Bucky's back. Just to make things worse, he traced one of the small dimples above the crest of his hip with the pad of his thumb.

Bucky took the shot prematurely, the blond could tell instinctively as he did his best not to smile. He reached for the spotting scope and peered through it at the target anyways, though.

"Ooh, pulled a little to the right," the blond said with mock sympathy as he lowered the device from his eye and smiled slyly at Bucky. "Maybe you should try relaxing your shoulders more."

"You bastard," Bucky growled as he flipped the safety on and put the gun safely to one side. Steve could tell he wasn't actually angry, but he _was_ surprised when the dark haired man unexpectedly rolled over and tried to wrestle him into submission.

Steve laughed and fought back. Soon, they were tussling the same way they had as boys (though with a great deal more skill), rolling this way and that across the ground as they each fought for dominance, but neither managed to maintain a hold on the other for long.

"Don't dish what you can't take!" the blond said and laughed. "You're so pro, me just putting a hand on you shouldn't make you miss!" he insisted as he pulled out of a headlock and swept an arm around to loop under Bucky's.

"I can't help it if you're the most god-damned distracting fat-head this side of the Atlantic," the former soldier complained, breathless and laughing. "You'd try the patience of the Virgin herself!"

"So that's how it is, huh?" Steve said and grabbed Bucky's shirt, then hauled it up over his head to block his vision and made a break for it.

Taken off guard by this sudden attack, the shorter man had to struggle to pull his black t-shirt back down, only to realize he'd been had when he spotted Steve sprinting for the door back into the compound.

"Get back here you coward!" he shouted, grinning as he rolled to his feet and took off after the other man, who looked back over his shoulder and laughed as he shoved the door open before him.

For a moment, just a moment, they weren't Captain America and the Winter Soldier, they were just Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes: two boys from Brooklyn playing chase in the narrow, dirty alleys of their home town on a rare day when Steve's lungs were a little more forgiving than normal. On days like that, Bucky would shorten his longer stride to let his friend get a head start on him for the sake of prolonging their game until he inevitably cornered the other boy, laughing and panting breathlessly in a dead end. Steve would put up a half-hearted fight, but generally submitted to the noogie he always got when Buck caught up with him after a game of chase. Sometimes Bucky would have to half-carry him back to his mom's place after, but Steve never had weighed much, so he didn't mind.

Something brought Steve up short, and he grabbed the door frame to keep from falling forward when Bucky slammed into his back.

"H-hey, Nat," he super-soldier said, flushed and breathless as he tried his very best to look casual.

"Hello, boys," the spy mused, good humor pulling at her full lips and lighting her eyes as she took them in. Both men sported tousled hair and grass stains, and for a moment, Nat felt like a babysitter that had just busted a couple of errant boys getting up to something they shouldn't. "Having fun?"

Steve had the good grace to look a little embarrassed as he smoothed his hair absently, and tugged his shirt straight before he answered "We were just, uh...you know, Buck was giving me a few pointers."

"On sniping," the other man added casually as he leaned against the doorframe, pretending he wasn't out of breath or had bits of grass caught in his long, dark hair.

"On sniping," Steve parroted as he flashed the redhead a grin.

Natasha just arched a brow up at the man, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Finally, she took pity on him and asked, "Didn't you lovebirds have a _date_ planned or something?"

Cap winced and he looked from the woman before him, back over his shoulder to the man behind him. "I _want_ to, it's just...hard. I tend to attract attention wherever I go," he explained, frowning absently as he spoke. "And I'd feel bad requisitioning a nano mask for personal use," he added, making it apparent that he really _had_ put a great deal of thought into the matter.

A less virtuous soul might have just taken a mask and not mentioned it to the techs, but Nat knew Steve would never want to set that kind of example for those around him. Besides, the nano masks (or 'photostatic veils' to the scientists that developed them) were in rather limited supply. The technology used in them was incredibly advanced, and only good for limited windows of time. Rumor had it that the techs had been making advances in improving them of late, though.

Natasha was a high level spy, and even _she_ only used them in the most necessary of situations.

The woman felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the Captain. After all, it wasn't as though he was worried about the paparazzi for his own sake. Rather, simply being in his company would draw attention to Bucky, which was something the world wasn't quite ready for. Steve could get away with short visits to busy places, but a nice sit-down restaurant, the likes of which one would normally frequent with a date, would require a miracle to visit without being recognized.

She glanced past Steve, then, to Bucky, who appeared impassive to the subject of their conversation. There was something about his carefully neutral expression, though, that made Natasha think he was likely just as disappointed as Cap.

"Well, how about you just do something here, then?" the redhead suggested. When both men just gave her a quizzical look, she continued, ideas already coming to mind. "We'll all help out. You can have a nice dinner up on the roof, just the two of you, maybe a little dancing... What do you think?" she suggested, smiling now.

The men shared a look, and after a moment, Bucky shrugged, leaving the decision to Steve. The taller man rubbed absently at the back of his neck, clearly weighing his options.

"I wouldn't want to put you through the trouble-" he began, but Natasha immediately cut him off.

"Steve, you're our friend," she said emphatically, then smiled past him to Bucky and added "You're _both_ our friends. Let us do this for you."

Steve glanced down at Bucky again, but the former soldier was looking at Natasha, expression thoughtful. Finally, the blond sighed and smiled. "Yeah, alright. Why not?"

"Great," the spy said, smiling in a way that suddenly worried Steve. "Meet up on the roof at eight o'clock sharp, and keep out from under our feet until then!" Natasha instructed firmly before heading back inside to rally the troops.

They watched her go, then Bucky looked at Steve, one brow raised as he said, "This is going to be a debacle, isn't it?"

Steve ducked his head as he sighed and laughed. "I'd call it a fifty-fifty chance," he admitted with a rueful smile.

"I'll be sure to wear my kevlar then."

* * *

Right as the clock struck eight, Steve pushed open the door to the roof and stepped outside, scanning his surroundings out of habit. His first instinct was to insure that the area was clear, though a second later, his conscious mind caught up with him and he realized he was being overcautious.

Just because he was nervous about the evening didn't mean he was about to get jumped, after all. Then again, considering that the only time his stomach normally got this tight, and his heart ran this fast was when he was about to die, he supposed it wasn't such an illogical thing for his subconscious to assume.

Taking a deep breath, Steve strolled out into the open, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark wash jeans to keep from fidgeting any more with the collar of his blue, fitted pinstripe shirt. He'd left the first few buttons undone after spending the better part of five minutes going back and forth from his closet to his bathroom mirror debating on just how many. Two, or three? He'd settled on three in the end, but even now his fingers itched to make it two. Was it too much skin? Three was too much skin, wasn't it?

Without thinking, Steve patted at the front of his shirt in an unconscious attempt to hide the line of his collarbone that had been left exposed by his button choice. He realized what he was doing after a moment, though, and grimaced to himself as he forced his hand down and turned his attention to the table that had been set up nearby.

It was one of the smaller square tables that they only brought out when they needed some extra space, though it took him a moment to recognize it, covered with a white tablecloth as it was.

The fact that they even _owned_ a tablecloth was news to the man, but then, formal dinner affairs weren't precisely the norm around the compound.

He trailed his fingers along the starched white fabric as he noticed that the table had been set for two using a familiar set of dishes, and an unfamiliar set of green, patterned placemats. A single candle burned in a decorative holder at the table's center, its flame flickering dangerously as an errant breeze rolled across the rooftop.

Steve glanced at the silver watch on his wrist and noted that it was only a few minutes past the hour. Just because Bucky was late didn't mean that he wasn't _coming,_ he told himself firmly, knowing he was being ridiculous. The blond forced himself to take another deep breath as he turned his gaze heavenward. The sky was clear, a vast swath of velvet darkness lit by a few stubborn stars that refused to pale in the face of the light pollution from the compound and its surrounding outbuildings.

Tracing a few familiar constellations with his eyes helped distract the man from his nerves, a habit that lingered from his days on the warfront. When sleep had eluded him and the other Howling Commandos, Morita would give them astronomy lessons to pass the time. Bucky had always enjoyed throwing his own astrological spin on things, inventing more and more ridiculous predictions for their future as the California born soldier had pointed out planets and constellations alike.

' _See that, Steve?'_ Bucky had said, grinning slyly at his friend after Morita pointed out the fine pinprick of light that was supposedly their solar system's fourth planet. ' _Mars is passing under Cancer, and Jupiter is up there dancing with Capricorn,'_ he waved at the thin strip of night sky above them as they reclined against the wall of the miserable trench they'd been holed up in for the better part of three days.

' _That so?'_ Steve had mused skeptically, but humored his friend. ' _And what's that supposed to mean?'_

Bucky had leveled a thoughtful look at him then, head canted slightly to one side, good humor pulling at the corners of his mouth before he glanced away again and said, ' _Means big things are coming for you, Steve Rogers. A big romance with a stubborn brunette, for one.'_

A bark of laughter had escaped Steve then, and he'd elbowed his friend, who had winced dramatically and continued, ' _And pain, lots of pain because of it!'_ as he lifted a boot and kicked the blond in the shin.

' _Ow!'_

The shorter man had pulled out of Steve's reach, and his shit-eating grin softened into something kinder when he added ' _You'll be happy in the end, though. Just you wait and see, Rogers.'_

Bucky had always enjoyed claiming to have Romani heritage when they were boys, insisting that he had an uncanny ability to predict the future with whatever sort of pseudo-mystic rubbish came to hand. It was a habit that had continued even into adulthood, and astrology had only been the latest in a long line of tools the man had used to 'predict' events to come. It had always been an effective ploy in getting the attention of any ladies that caught his eye in any case. It gave Bucky an excuse to hold their hands and look deep into their eyes as he traced the fine lines on their palms and predicted that they'd meet a dark, handsome stranger, or some other self-serving nonsense.

Steve always rolled his eyes and left him to it, though it never failed to amuse when his friend had tried his skills on him and the commandos when things were at their darkest.

Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia, Cancer…

The sound of the door opening brought the butterflies fluttering in Steve's stomach as he turned to see Bucky stepping out onto the roof. The other man paused for a moment when he saw him, then shoved his hands into his pockets and closed the distance between them at a quick pace.

Steve flashed the man a smile when their eyes met, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt. It was absurd, really. This was Bucky. His best friend and confidant. The person who knew him best in all the world…

The familiar line of thought didn't do anything to calm the super-soldier's racing pulse. If anything, his study of his friend as he walked only made things worse as he realized that, though this was indeed Bucky, it was Bucky looking downright dashing. A common enough sight before they'd both wound up on ice, but not something Steve had beheld since nineteen forty-four. They'd been in dress uniform at some nameless little bar, drinking whiskey and admiring the local female population through a haze of cigarette smoke...

What Bucky wore now was a far cry from his old uniform, but Steve found himself liking it just as much. The black jeans were a good look for him, pairing well with his black collared shirt and gray, slim fit vest. Unlike his date, Bucky wore a red tie; though as a seeming gesture of defiance, he had left it loose enough to allow him to leave his top button undone.

"Hey," Steve said when Bucky reached him, congratulating himself mentally for sounding mostly normal.

Feeling flustered, but doing his damnedest not to show it, Bucky said, "Sorry, Romanov sort of...ambushed me," and grimaced, hand going self-consciously to his hair as he silently cursed the redhead.

Curious, Steve took a closer look at his date, and realized that his hair _did_ look different than normal, if not in an immediately obvious way when compared to the striking contrast in how he was dressed.

Bucky had taken some care shaving, as there was nary a sign of stubble along his jaw, but that was normal. The thoroughly brushed state of his dark, shoulder length hair was uncommon, though, giving it a soft, silken appearance in the candlelight. Steve didn't think that Bucky had ever quite gotten used to caring for his long hair since regaining himself, but apparently Natasha had finally put her foot down, and the man couldn't help but appreciate her efforts.

Most of it had been left to fall in loose waves, but the top half had been pulled back and braided, rather than put in a ponytail as the man had been doing of late. Already, though (or perhaps by design on Nat's part), a tendril was pulling loose from its bindings to fall across his brow.

"I like it," Steve said honestly as he reached out and tucked the stray hair behind Bucky's ear, then let his fingertips trail distractedly through the dark strands that fell to his shoulder. They were just as soft as they looked. Catching himself, the blond cleared his throat awkwardly, cheeks threatening a blush as he pulled his hand back and looked back up at the stars without really seeing them. "It suits you," he added, embarrassed by his lapse.

Silently, Bucky cursed Steve for so effectively employing a move he himself had used on dozens of women over the years before his untimely 'death'. He'd never managed to be so unaffectedly _charming_ as Steve about it, though, and he had no doubt that the man had no idea. Steve was too honest for hokey player gambits, but damn if he wasn't good at them. He'd never admit it, but the man had made him go weak in the knees with the simple gesture and the warm, admiring smile that started in his bright blue eyes, and ended in a curl of his full lips.

"Thanks," Bucky managed to grunt, but couldn't quite bring himself to return the favor. Not that Steve didn't look good. Of _course_ Steve looked good. The man was a veritable Adonis, he _always_ looked good. It didn't matter if he was well groomed and wearing a collared shirt that showed a tantalizing amount of skin at his throat and a pair of jeans that rendered his thighs and backside _thoroughly_ distracting; or a coating of dirt, ash, sweat and his battle torn uniform.

Before he could even hazard an attempt at a compliment, though, Steve spoke again, distracting the man.

"You remember how you used to make those predictions about the future, back in the day?"

Curious about the change in subject, Bucky turned his gaze skyward to examine the stars that seemed to have captured Steve's attention once more. A light huff of amusement escaped the ex-soldier as he admitted "Yeah," a smile flitting across his features.

"Do you remember the last one you ever told me?" Steve asked, quiet now as he looked at Bucky once more.

The other man's brow furrowed in thought as he searched for the memory, and deepened when he drew a blank. "No," he admitted as he turned to meet his date's gaze, one brow lifted in unspoken question.

"You told me," Steve began, only to hesitate as his eyes dropped to the ground. Bucky was worried for a moment that the conversation had brought back some unpleasant memory for the man, but was disproven when his date smiled and tried again. "You told me that, and I quote, 'Big things are coming for you, Steve Rogers.'"

"Well they did, didn't they?" Bucky replied with a laugh, only to stop short when Steve unexpectedly caught his hand in his own. He looked down in surprise as their fingers twined, then glanced back at the blond, who continued to speak.

"'A big romance with a stubborn brunette, for one'."

Bucky stared, taken aback as Steve's words brought back memories. "'And pain, lots of pain because of it'," he muttered as the night in question came back to him.

Seeing the other man's expression venture dangerously close to pained, Steve squeezed his hand and smiled as he finished, voice low and quiet, "'You'll be happy in the end, though'. That's what you told me." In the face of Bucky's silence, the blond couldn't help but laugh. "Granted, I don't think you correctly anticipated the brunette in question, so don't let it go to your head."

"Says you," Bucky huffed, saved from melancholy by Steve's deft handling of the conversation. His words got another laugh out of the super-soldier, bringing a grin to his own face as he said, "To think you doubted me, all these years. I'm hurt."

Eyes bright, Steve leaned in and, his voice barely above a whisper, asked, "Can you ever forgive me?"

Heart skipping a beat at the man's sudden nearness, Bucky lost the retort that had been on the tip of his tongue. Luckily, he was saved by the quiet, but pointed, clearing of a throat from behind him.

The men turned sharply to the source of the noise, both of them immediately on guard when they realized someone had managed to sneak up on them in their distraction.

Natasha stood beside the table (because _of course_ it was Natasha, Bucky thought), smiling slyly at the pair of them "Evening, boys. Not interrupting something, am I?"

"No," Bucky answered automatically.

"Yes," Steve said at the same time, tone dry as he eyed the spy with a sour expression.

The former soldier's eyebrows went up, and his date's sarcasm evaporated, leaving behind only embarrassment as he took a step back and released his hold on Bucky's hand.

"Well, we can skip dinner if you want," Natasha remarked casually, though she was still smiling that cheshire grin when she gestured to the bottle she had brought with her. "I'd at least give the wine a try, though," she said as she leaned over and casually flipped their wine glasses so they were right-side up and proceeded to fill both halfway, voice impeccably neutral when she added "But who am I to stop you if you want to skip straight to dessert?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Please take a few moments of your day to leave a review if you enjoyed, they really make my day ;-;


	16. Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

**Author's Note:** Not gonna lie, this dinner scene was really fun to write, so I hope you guys enjoy it!  
No beta this week, so please forgive any errors!  
Also, make sure to drop a review if you enjoy, they really help me keep writing, especially in the face of the **incredibly** rude comment I got on one of my other fics the other day. Like...I can't even guys -throws hands in the air and wonders wtf is wrong with some people-  
A quick piece of advice for people who enjoy reading fanfiction: writing an author asking for more updates and then telling them that their story premise is wasted on them and they should just give it to another writer to finish it when said author admits they're not sure when the next update will be if there is one at all because they're thinking of taking this AU and writing it as an actual novel to potentially get published is NOT a good way to encourage them to update. It's a good way to make them never want to update that story again.

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Sixteen: Flattery Will Get You Everywhere

" _Who am I to stop you if you want to skip straight to dessert?"_

Beside him, Steve gave a start at their friend's implication, blushing for real now as Bucky frowned at Natasha.

"No? Alright then," the woman said, clearly unperturbed by the thunderous look the former soldier gave her. "Best come take your seats then, dinner will be up in a few," she continued nonchalantly before leaving the bottle on the table and disappearing back through the door to the stairwell.

"That mouth'll get her in trouble one of these days," Bucky grumbled when they were alone again, then lead the way towards the table. He paused when they reached it, and rather than taking a seat, he pulled a chair out for Steve and nodded meaningfully for him to sit.

The gesture made the super-soldier lose his train of thought for a moment. He hesitated, but when Bucky arched a brow at him in a way that said ' _well, come on then, don't keep me waiting_ ', he moved to the offered seat and took it.

Hoping to cover his embarrassment, Steve found his tongue again and managed to say, "Lucky for her, it's equally good at getting her _out_ of trouble," with a half-hearted chuckle.

Bucky hummed skeptically as he took his own seat across the table from his date, and proceeded to fiddle absently with his fork. He glanced at Steve, and was horrified to find himself at a complete loss for words, and more jittery than he'd ever been on a date before. How many dozens of times had he gone through this exact song and dance in his younger days, before the war?

You took a girl out for some dinner and bought her a drink. You paid her pretty compliments and gave her your most winning smile, then you proceeded to charm her out of her shoes and onto the dance floor. Easy as pie. Before the war, he could have done it in his sleep. Probably _had_ done it in his sleep.

So why couldn't he do it now?

Steve glanced up at him with those big blue eyes of his, a nervous smile pulling at his lips as the flickering candle between them cast soft shadows across his strong features, and Bucky knew he was screwed. He couldn't carry off a date with his usual _savoir faire_ , not because this was his first time on a date with a man, but because this was _Steve_ , not a girl just looking for a good time.

* * *

The clock on the wall read seven forty-five, and Bucky was panicking. He had come to the startling realization he had no idea what you did on a date with a man in the middle of buttoning up his vest, and now felt totally at sea. Were the rules different? Which one of them was supposed to hold the door for the other? Or pull out a chair at a table? What about compliments, or flirting, or-

A knock on the door nearly made him jump out of his skin, terrified that it might be Steve waiting for him on the other side. After a moment's horrified staring, though, he recalled that they had agreed to meet up on the roof, which meant there was someone else waiting for him to answer.

Hesitantly, Bucky opened the door, and found Natasha waiting for him on the other side. The redhead took one look at him and asked, "Are you having a panic attack?"

"No," he replied, though the erratic, too-fast pounding of his heart and breathless, dizzy state argued otherwise.

The spy took advantage of his moment of weakness and pushed the door open before he could object. "Sit down," she instructed him, tone firm but kind as she gripped his arm with her slender fingers and guided him to the only chair in his room. "Just breathe," Natasha said gently, a smile tugging at her lips.

Bucky stared at her, then slowly bent over double and pressed his face into his hands. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it all in one expressive woosh before falling into a more normal breathing pattern.

"What's got you all worked up?" Nat asked as she reached into her back pocket and pulled out the hairbrush she'd brought with her. She proceeded to drag it through the man's untamed hair, taking advantage of his distraction to do what she had actually come there to do.

Bucky was silent for a minute, seeming to focus all of his attention on simply breathing. She let him be, and eventually he answered, "I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing."

A soft 'ah' of understanding escaped the woman, and her smile widened, making her glad the man wasn't actually looking at her. In this state, he probably would have hit her for it.

"You're overthinking things, I promise," Natasha said as she stopped brushing and gently grabbed Bucky's shoulders to pull him carefully upright. She patted him reassuringly, then went back to brushing, which seemed to have an oddly calming effect on the former soldier as she continued, "Steve's not expecting things to go perfect, Bucky. Trust me, he's just as confused by all this as you are."

The man glanced back over his shoulder at her, a frown on his face as he asked, "Really?"

"Well obviously," she scoffed lightly, grabbing his head and turning him back the way he'd been so she could finish. After a moment, she set aside the brush and swept her fingers through the long, dark strands to separate the top half from the bottom and said, "Not like _he's_ ever been on a date with a guy either. Neither of you know what you're doing, so just go out there and have fun. Stop trying to make it complicated."

"But I don't-" he began, only to earn himself a smack on the shoulder from one of Natasha's hands. Unfortunately for her, she'd aimed for the left without thinking, and wound up shaking her abused digits to alleviate the sting.

"It doesn't _matter,_ Barnes," she told him firmly once the pain had passed, tugging on his hair to drive her point home before she began to braid it at the back. "Just go out there and talk to him. Make eyes at him. Flirt with him. Hell, make out with him on the table; it doesn't matter _what_ you do, just do it together. That's all a date is, really," she mused.

Bucky grunted skeptically, brow furled heavily in thought until the tugging on his hair finally registered and he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Just taming this rat's nest for you," Natasha answered, and pushed his hand away with her elbow as she tied off the braid with a hairband from her pocket. "There, perfect," she said and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

The man scowled over his shoulder at her, then went into the bathroom to see what she had done. When he came back out, nothing had changed about it, so the spy assumed he approved, or at least didn't disapprove strongly enough to undo her work.

Noticing that two of his vest buttons were still undone, Natasha stepped up to the man and deftly fastened them, and asked, "You're going to wear the tie I brought you, right?"

"No," he answered, frowning down at her as she smoothed his shirt collar.

Bucky flinched back when the spy unexpectedly flicked the end of his nose with one of her red lacquered nails and countered, "Yes."

" _No_ ," he growled as he rubbed his nose to soothe the pain there.

"After all the trouble I went through setting this all up, organizing everyone, finding you something to wear so you won't have to show up to your first date dressed like a bum-" Natasha began, green eyes narrowed up at Bucky as she poked him sharply, and repeatedly, in the chest.

"Alright! Christ, I'll wear it, just stop fucking poking me already," the former soldier said and swatted away her hand before stalking over to the bed where he had left the offending piece of clothing and proceeded to put it on.

Natasha smiled triumphantly when he gave in, but her expression quickly dropped into a scowl when she saw the half-assed job he'd done of it. She reached out to fix it, and he slapped her hand away again. There was a brief contest of wills as they stared one another down, but this time, Bucky came out on top.

The redhead threw her hands in the air and said "Fine, whatever." Besides, she thought as she gave him a last once over, the looseness of the knot gave him a sort of rakish, devil-may-care feel that certainly suited him, whether he liked it or not.

This time it was Bucky that flashed the triumphant grin, though it immediately faltered when he noticed the time.

"Shit," he swore and went to the door. He jerked it open, and held it as he waved Natasha out, clearly not wanting to leave her alone in his personal space.

The redhead waltzed past him, but when they were both in the hall, she surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. Bucky looked down at her, gray eyes questioning, and she just smiled.

"Have fun," she told him and she patted his good shoulder, then disappeared off down the hall.

* * *

' _We did things all out of order,'_ Bucky mused silently to himself as he watched Steve thoughtfully from across the table. First dates were supposed to come _before_ confessions of love. You weren't supposed to already know your date better than you knew yourself.

"Something the matter, Buck?" Steve asked hesitantly, twirling the stem of his wineglass between his long, calloused fingers in his distraction.

"What?" the former soldier asked, dragged from his reverie by the other man's words.

A quizzical, though amused look crossed the blond's face as he said "You were, uh...staring."

"Couldn't help myself," Bucky replied as he gathered his courage and let his chin rest on his thumb, index finger tapping absently at his cheekbone as he continued, "You just look too damn good."

Steve's eyes widened, and his wine glass nearly toppled sideways out of his grip as he was blindsided by the compliment. Flustered, the man made a grab for his glass and righted it quickly, placing it back on the table before he could knock it over again.

"You alright over there?" Bucky asked, smiling roguishly at his discomfited date as he twirled his fork with the idle fingers of his left hand, making the impliment dance dizzily in the candlelight. Maybe this wasn't so difficult after all. He just had to stop thinking about it so hard…

"Y-yeah," Steve stammered, and Bucky found himself admiring the particular shade of crimson the tips of the man's ears had turned. "It's just..."

Chin still resting on his thumb, the dark haired man tilted his head slightly in question, brow arched, still smiling.

"The flirting," his date managed to eek out, voice rough, forcing him to clear his throat before picking up his wine glass again to take a long sip to buy himself a moment to get himself under control. He swallowed, then said, "I just didn't expect it."

Bucky immediately stopped spinning his fork, catching it between two fingers as he frowned, worried that he had crossed a line after all. "I can stop," he said, brow furrowed with concern as he sat up straight and watched Steve closely.

"No!" the blond objected immediately, putting out a hand for emphasis and nearly knocking his glass over again in the process. "Son of a-" he began as he snatched at the offending glassware, only to send it spinning right off the edge of the table.

Bucky lunged so he was sprawled half across his empty dinner plate, and managed to snag the glass before it could hit the ground. Steve stared for a moment, then sagged weakly back into his seat, both hands on his face as Bucky carefully righted himself and placed the wineglass in the center of the table. He watched the other man out of the corner of his eye as he righted himself and straightened his vest a little to give the blond a moment to collect himself.

When he fully turned his attention back to Steve, the man's hands were still over his face, but the fingers had relaxed some so he could see his blue eyes peering out at him.

They regarded one another like that for a moment before Steve admitted, from behind the shelter of his hands, "No, I...I like it. Just surprised me is all."

Something in Bucky relaxed, then, and he smiled at the other man, who finally let his hands drop into his lap and smiled in turn.

"Well, good," the ex-soldier said, rogue's smile returning once more as he went to lean his left elbow on his table. "Because there's plenty more where that-"

The sharp, tinkling crash of glass hitting concrete made Bucky's head snap around to see the shattered remains of his own wineglass on the ground. The expression of disgust that overtook his face then was apparently too much for Steve, as the super-soldier doubled over with laughter.

"Oh-Oh God, Buck, your face," the first Avenger wheezed helplessly as he struggled to reign himself in, tears of mirth in his eyes.

Bucky tried to look offended, he really did, but it wasn't long before he too was laughing, unable to resist in the face of his friend's amusement.

"Goddammit," he said, burying his face in his hand as he struggled to catch his breath. Steve leaned back in his chair again, head thrown back as the occasional chuckle continued to escape him.

"You thought you were so damn smooth," the blond said as he righted himself, grinning broadly as he wagged a finger at Bucky, who heaved a sigh and nodded.

"Well, what's life without a good kick in the teeth when you're trying to look peachy for your best guy, huh?" Bucky drawled as he propped his chin on his hand again, clearly no longer caring if he knocked anything else off the table. A wry smile lit his face as he stared out across the roof, then glanced back at Steve.

The blond was smiling again, and found himself quite unable to stop. "Best guy, huh?" he asked as he mimicked Bucky's pose, stomach fluttering at the words.

Cursing himself silently, the dark haired man realized that _he_ was the one blushing now. "Well, yeah," he mumbled, dragging his eyes from Steve's, unable to handle the way the other man was smiling at him. The expression on his friend's face was one of pure adoration tinged with good humor, and Bucky wasn't sure he could take it all in without being overwhelmed.

"Hey," Steve said after a moment, lightly kicking the other man in the shin under the table "Want to get out of here?"

"What?" Bucky asked, blinking as he turned=back to Steve, who was smiling at him innocently. "And go where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere but here," his friend replied as he pushed himself upright. "Anywhere I don't feel like I'm in a fishbowl," he added, glancing briefly at one of the security cameras that looked out over their little dinner scene.

Bucky followed his eyes and grimaced. Nothing anyone could say would convince him that the others weren't all crammed into the observation deck watching their every move.

"We haven't eaten dinner yet, and Natasha will be pissed," he pointed out, though it was a half-hearted attempt at distraction. He could see that glint in Steve's eye that he always got when he'd seized on an idea and was set on running with it.

"We'll find something, and Nat will forgive us eventually," the other man said with a careless wave of his hand before leaning over the table, grinning boyishly as he added, "Come on, over the railing and down the drain pipe, quick run across the lawn to the garage and my bike..."

Bucky was grinning now too, unable to repress it when faced with the pure mischief in Steve's blue eyes.

"Hell's bells, man, who are you and what have you done with Steve?" he asked and laughed. Before his date could respond, though, Bucky pushed himself to his feet and offered him his hand. "Alright, let's blow this popsicle joint, Rogers."

Steve laughed and let Bucky pull him to his feet.

"On three, then," the blond said. "One."

"Two," Bucky said, grinning as they both turned to face the distant railing.

"Three!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Make sure to drop a review if you enjoyed, they really make my day!


	17. Brainwashed

**Author's Note:** No joke, guys, I totally wrote this chapter BEFORE Civil War came out stateside (I saw it a few hours after I wrote this actually, on May 5th, lol), but the similarities between this scenario and the movie scene where our boys are talking about hot dogs still definitely made me do a double take. I'd had this planned for weeks already. What the heck, haha.

Remember to drop a review if you enjoyed! They really help me keep writing, and totally make my day!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**  
Chapter Seventeen: Brainwashed

Getting down the drainpipe was easy, though Bucky nearly lost a vest button in the process, and Steve almost twisted his ankle on a hidden sprinkler during their mad dash across the front lawn to the garage.

They made it without anyone the wiser (They assumed. No one tried to stop them, in any case.), only the be brought up short when Steve tried the side door and found that it had already been locked for the night.

"Uh-"

"Steve, if you tell me you forgot your keys-" Bucky began ominously, only to be interrupted by the sharp crack of something metal being effortlessly snapped under Steve's powerful hand.

"Oh, what do you know, it's open after all," the super-soldier said innocently as he pushed the door open before them.

Bucky rolled his eyes but followed the other man in, and quietly shut the door behind them. "Not gonna try that trick on your bike, I hope," he drawled.

Steve turned and gave him an offended look. "Of course not," he said, then went to a shelf along the back wall and set to shifting a few boxes full of parts out of the way while Bucky waited.

The garage was huge. Cars, trucks, assault vehicles, and what Bucky was convinced was some sort of submersible, filled the space. Then, there at the back, was Cap's Triumph T100R Daytona motorcycle sitting pretty under the bright overhead lights. It had been painted a deep shade of crimson with silver trim, and had a carefully maintained black leather seat; a clear descendant of the bikes he had so admired as a boy before the war, but could never afford.

Behind him, one of the smaller garage doors rolled up and open with a quiet groan, making Bucky look around to see Steve by the control panel grinning triumphantly, key in hand.

"Here," he said, tossing a leather riding jacket to Bucky, who caught it deftly with one hand. "There's gloves in the pocket," Steve added as he fetched a couple of bucket helmets off a hook on the wall.

The former soldier didn't need to ask why Steve was giving him these when it was hardly cool enough outside to merit the extra coverage. Since they didn't know where they were going, it was always better safe than sorry when it came to hiding Bucky's rather noticeable left arm. They'd have to come up with something new when summer came, though, he thought absently as he slipped into the jacket. Coats and gloves in the middle of summer could attract almost as much attention as cybernetic enhancements.

Bucky followed after as Steve pushed his bike around a few cars towards the door, then mounted it and put on his helmet. Seeing that his date was done putting on his jacket and gloves, the blond reached back and handed him the spare.

"Seriously?" Bucky asked with a skeptical lift of a brow.

"Yes, seriously. It's the law and I don't feel like getting pulled over," Steve said, pushing the helmet at the other man, amused but insistent. "What? Afraid you'll mess up your hair?" he teased.

Bucky scowled and took the helmet as he swung his leg over the seat and sat himself down behind Steve. He clipped it in place as his date started the bike, the initial rumbling of the motor almost deafening in the confines of the garage, then found himself faced with a tough decision.

Hand placement.

There _was_ a bar at the back of the seat he could hold onto, but it was hardly comfortable, and he knew Steve would likely laugh at him for even trying it. Still, the thought looping his arms around the man's waist and leaning in against him made Bucky feel like he was about to break out in a sweat. Eventually, he settled for placing his hands on Steve's shoulders.

Steve didn't comment, but after making an initially slow start out of the garage, he suddenly gunned it, tires squealing on pavement as the peeled off down the driveway. Startled, Bucky swore and threw his arms reflexively around the other man's waist before he could be thrown from the back of the bike.

When Steve glanced back over his shoulder and flashed him a mischievous grin, Bucky knew he'd been had.

"You're such an asshole," he grumbled in the other man's ear as he resigned himself to his new position and adjusted his hold on Steve's waist to something a little more comfortable for both of them.

The blond just laughed and turned his attention back to the road, inwardly delighted by the success of his ploy. Bucky's warm presence at his back, and the feel of his arms wrapped around him made his stomach twist alarmingly, but he loved every moment. The way the other man's breath tickled the nape of his neck sent goosebumps rippling down his back, and he wouldn't be surprised if his friend could feel his heart pounding straight through bone and muscle and skin into his own chest.

Steve had to force himself to keep his mouth shut as he smiled like a maniac before he wound up with bugs in his teeth.

The longer they rode through the night, cool spring air whistling in their ears, the more Bucky relaxed into him, and the happier Steve felt. They were free and clear, just the two of them and the rolling New York countryside that went for miles, disappearing in the soft, velvet darkness until they hit the highway. The streetlights that lined the road cut vibrant stripes across the pavement and rippled over both men as they passed the occasional car, taillights a crimson blur in their wake.

Bucky took a deep breath, relishing the smell of the clean night air and Steve's cologne as it mixed with the warm, familiar scent of old leather that emanated from his borrowed jacket. A quick glance at the speedometer over the other man's shoulder told the ex-soldier that they were going well over the speed limit, though. ' _So much for not wanting to get pulled over'_ he mused silently to himself before something in the distance caught his eye.

"What's that?" he asked, pressing himself closer to Steve's back to speak in his ear to save him from shouting as he loosened his grip with one arm and pointed towards a series of bright lights off to the right of the highway.

Steve glanced over, curious as well. He certainly didn't remember such a display being there when he'd last passed by a few days before. After a moment, though, he realized what it was, and grinned. Clicking on his signal, he leaned the bike hard to the right, catching the exit ramp at the last moment, forcing Bucky to cling to him again and lean in unison to keep the back tire from kicking out on them.

The blond laughed when the sound of Bucky releasing a muffled torrent of vehement swearing reached his ears, and earned himself a punch in the ribs for his troubles.

"Ow! Hey, no messing with the driver," Steve cried.

"Then quit trying to show off, jackass," Bucky grunted as he loosened his grip on the other man a little.

Slowing to a more reasonable speed as they turned onto a side road, Steve scoffed. "I am _not_ showing off."

Bucky hummed noncommittally, attention now focused on their surroundings as they passed through a small town, heading for the lights in the distance. They weren't the only ones, and they were forced to slow further as traffic picked up.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" He asked Steve as he sat up straighter behind the man.

"Mmm, sort of," Steve mused, smiling back at Bucky over his shoulder and chuckling at the wry look the other man gave him. "Relax. Not like we've got anywhere to be right now."

Bucky was forced to concede the point, so he forced himself to relax a little, and went back to leaning against Steve's broad back. For all that the blond liked to get up to some rather heart pounding antics on his favorite bike, he _was_ a much better driver than when he was in a car. In fact, if it meant having ample excuse to hold the man like this, maybe Bucky would make a point of suggesting they go by motorcycle more often.

A few minutes later, the pair found themselves at the opposite end of town at what was normally an open field, but now played host to a small carnival.

"You're kidding," Bucky said, looking at Steve incredulously as he parked the bike and dismounted, grinning like a school boy.

The man tugged off his helmet and hung it over one of the handlebars as he said, "Come on, it'll be fun!"

Bucky stared up at the super-soldier from where he remained seated on the back of the motorcycle, but felt his resolve cracking in the face of Steve's enthusiasm.

' _It's those damn eyes of his,'_ the dark haired man thought, resigned. ' _They're all big and earnest and you feel like a monster if you tell him no, because when he stops smiling a light goes out in them and it's like clouds on a sunny day...'_

The smell of deep fried carnival food curled past on an errant breeze, and Bucky's stomach rumbled audibly, making him grimace.

Steve gave him a knowing smile and said "Bet you anything they've got corndogs," in an innocent tone of voice, as though he hadn't just pulled an ace from his sleeve.

Bucky groaned, then and knew he'd been beat. With a sigh, he pulled off his own helmet and hung it from the other handlebar before dismounting the bike and tugging his jacket straight.

"They had better be some _amazing_ goddamn corn dogs," he told the taller man with a haughty sniff.

"Gotta be better than the ones we tried to make that time in Germany with those bratwurst, at least," Steve said with a laugh as they started walking across the field, winding their way between parked cars towards the carnival proper.

Bucky groaned again and laughed at the memory of the messy, desperate attempt at familiar american food using strange, foreign ingredients. Everyone but Steve had ended up with terrible indigestion at the end of it, and even he had felt a little green around the gills the next day.

"I would not want to witness the sort of abomination that could outclass that horror," the ex-soldier said with a shudder of disgust.

Luckily, the corn dogs they bought from a stand next to an ancient looking carousel were far from abominations. Bucky took the first bite, and proceeded to let out a muffled moan of pure bliss that made Steve stare at him, his own corn dog frozen halfway to his mouth.

"What?" Bucky asked around his mouthful as he chewed, embarrassed that his love of deep fried food had gotten the better of him. "I fucking _love_ corn dogs, okay? You know this," he groused after he swallowed, then proceeded to take another bite as he stalked away across the fairgrounds.

The flow of the crowd around them was such that the pair was separated for a few minutes, to the point that Bucky actually considered climbing up on something to get a look over the crowd for that familiar crown of golden hair. He polished off his corn dog and tossed the stick in a nearby trash can. Just as he turned again, though, there was Steve, smiling at him, a second fried treat in hand.

"I think the point of a date is to stick together," the super-soldier mused as he offered him some other sort of fried food on a stick, his own corn dog still only half-eaten.

"Keep bringing me fried stuff and I'm all yours," Bucky replied as he took the new food and looked at it curiously, then bit into it. The sweetness of chocolate and caramel, combined with the delicious familiarity of fried breading burst across the man's tongue and he almost groaned again. He restrained himself, though, and looked up at Steve and asked, wide-eyed "Holy shit, what _is_ this?"

Grinning down at his friend, Steve answered, "Fried Snickers bar."

"Is there anything they _can't_ fry?" Bucky asked, tone wondering as he took another bite. He wasn't normally big on sweets, but deep fry it and suddenly he couldn't get enough.

"Apparently not," the blond answered with a chuckle as they started walking again.

Bucky was so distracted by his dessert that he didn't notice when Steve took his hand until the super-soldier used it to keep him from wandering off. The blond stopped to look at another stand and the shorter man glanced down in surprise, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering at the casual intimacy of their intertwined fingers.

Clearing his throat a little of the sticky-sweetness, Bucky stepped up next to Steve to see what it was he was looking at. While he'd been occupied with eating, they had moved out of the food section of the fair, and into a line of stands selling locally made crafts. This particular stand was selling honey that had apparently come from right up the road.

The former soldier wasn't sure that he'd ever stop being impressed by the easy way Steve could engage even the most reticent people in conversation. His words were simple, but the genuine kindness that radiated from him, and the warmth of his smile made it easy for people to open up to him. It was something Bucky himself had never truly mastered. He could manage a cheap imitation and feign interest in others and get them talking, or worse, he had other, less pleasant ways to make people talk that he'd learned over the years…

"Thank you very much, ma'am," Steve told the elderly woman in charge of the stand, and she smiled up at him, just as sweet as the honey she sold.

Bucky watched as Steve went to pocket the small bottle he had purchased, only for him to pause and look over at his date.

"What?" Bucky asked suspiciously around his last mouthful of deep fried snickers.

The blond did his best to suppress a smile, but failed as he turned to Bucky and slipped the bottle in the pocket of his borrowed jacket.

"What am I, your pack mule?" he groused half-heartedly as he threw away his popsicle stick.

"No, but you _are_ a mess," Steve mused as he tugged Bucky gently by the hand into the lee of a stand selling cheap jewelry, out of the way of passerby. He licked the pad of his thumb and swiped it across the corner of the other man's mouth.

Bucky grimaced, and started to tell the other man off for treating him like a child, but was brought up short when Steve stuck his thumb absently in his mouth and sucked it clean. The sight sent a shock of desire shooting straight south, taking the ex-soldier off guard with the suddenness of it.

"Er-" was the only thing he managed to say before he shut his mouth sharply enough to make his teeth click.

Steve looked at him, one eyebrow raised in question as his slipped his finger from his mouth, then ran it along his own lips to make sure he didn't have anything on them. "What?"

The fact that he was in love with his best friend was something Bucky had adjusted to with relative ease. This was Steve, after all, whose moral compass pointed true North against all odds without ever sacrificing his naturally good heart. He felt every call he'd ever had to make in the marrow of his bones, borne the weight of them willingly to save the people around him. He'd give everything in a fight for what he believed in, and he'd laid down his life, time and time again, for those he loved. Who, in turn, could do anything but love Steve Rogers?

No, loving his best friend was as easy as breathing for Bucky. The awakening of here-to-fore unrealized sexual desires towards Steve was something he was still coming to term with, though.

After being brought up being told that such things were _wrong_ for so long, that God himself frowned on their kind of love, deep grooves had been cut in his subconscious along which his thoughts had trundled along for many a year...until now. Now his thoughts had jumped the track, careening into unfamiliar territory to find himself neck deep in old ideas and desires turned in new directions.

He'd thought Hydra had done a number on his head by brainwashing him, but looking up at Steve now, he wondered if the American government hadn't got the Nazis beat after all. His best friend was gorgeous, and the way his lips curled up in a little smile at the corners filled Bucky with an uncontrollable need to kiss him. He longed to run his fingers through that wheat-gold hair, wanted those green flecked blue eyes watching no one but him, wanted...wanted…

They were all traits, Bucky admitted silently, that he'd _always_ admired about Steve, even if he'd never permitted himself to explicitly think so. He'd refused to admit how beautiful his friend's fever bright eyes had been when he'd sat at his bedside during that awful storm in October of nineteen-thirty when the snow had fallen so thick and fast they'd been stuck indoors for days. Couldn't bring himself to confess how much he loved his smile even when they were boys, couldn't help but ruffle his friend's hair when he least expected it, relishing the silken feel of it against his fingertips.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Bucky said out of the blue, seeming almost quizzical as he canted his head to one side, eyes narrowing slightly. He'd struggled to come up with a compliment at dinner, but here, surrounded by bright, colorful carnival lights, and the chatter of happy people, Bucky found there was little else he _could_ say that would be more true.

Steve gave a start, completely taken off guard by his date's sudden question. "I-" he began, color creeping up his throat and into his cheeks. The expression on Bucky's face was impossible to make heads or tails of, throwing him into further confusion. "I just, uh...well, super-soldier serum, right?" he suggested with a weak, breathy laugh as he waved one hand helplessly. "Does a body wonders."

Bucky gave an expressive snort "No," he said, tone matter-of-fact. "You've always been that way. Just taken me ninety-something years to admit it to myself, I think," he admitted ruefully as he lowered his gaze from Steve's.

Unsure of how else to respond to this, Steve managed to eek out an awkward, "Thank you," heart pounding almost deafeningly in his ears when Bucky reached out, eyes still on the ground, and took his hand once more.

They started walking again, merging seamlessly with the crowd around them as they wandered down the main avenue, passing more stands without so much as a second-glance in their distraction.

"I think I've about figured what it is," Bucky admitted, his non sequitur making Steve look at him with some confusion again, cheeks still ruddy. "Sometimes I think it's the way you smile at people, smile at _me,_ " he continued, not noticing the way the blond's hand tightened convulsively around his in his distraction. "Makes me feel valued...loved, even, with one little curl of your lips."

"But then I think it's the way you look at people with those baby-blues of yours," he continued, glancing up at Steve now, and flashing him a brief grin. "'Cuz when you do, you make a body feel like the most important person in all the world, you know? Like they're special, and their input is important."

"I don't do all that," Steve objected, almost overwhelmed by this portrait the man beside him was painting. "I just...people _are_ special, and I do love them. Love _you,_ " he reiterated, flustered as he looked anywhere but Bucky now. "Treating people like people...that's nothing special."

Bucky watched Steve closely as he spoke, even though the man refused to meet his eyes. He was the one smiling now, to the point that he was forced to chuckle.

"And _that_ ," he said, pointing at Steve with a gloved finger "is what _really_ makes you beautiful. You're so damn full of...I don't know," Bucky threw his free hand in air. "Love? Compassion? Human empathy? Whatever it is, it practically leaks out of your seams, Steve, like a beacon, and everyone can see it. It's beautiful, and it attracts people like moths to a flame."

Steve stared at him, feeling breathless as he tried to meet Bucky's eyes. He could only hold them for a moment before he had to drop his gaze to his ground. Their pace had slowed significantly, but that fact didn't seem to bother anyone, so they didn't let it bother them either.

Bucky kept his mouth shut for the time being, though his gray eyes occasionally flicked to Steve, who seemed lost in thought, processing his words. What conclusion he came to at the end of it all, he wasn't sure, as instead of commenting further on it, the super-soldier instead admitted in a quiet voice "You know, Buck, you're beautiful too."

The shorter man shot him a skeptical look. Oh sure, he'd always known he was a looker. You didn't get as much skirt as he had over the years without knowing exactly what sort of assets you were working with, after all. He could immediately tell, though, that his rugged good looks weren't what the other man was alluding too.

"It's true!" Steve objected, accurately reading his expression, frowning at Bucky's unspoken denial. "I just..." he was blushing again, and the ex-soldier quirked a brow at him, a wry smile pulling at his lips. "I'll tell you later," he mumbled, and Bucky was startled to realize that the other man was feeling _shy._

It shouldn't have surprised him, but somehow, it had. After all, Steve had always been awkward around girls he'd liked, tripping over his tongue to express himself, and cursing himself to Bucky when he'd related the tale of his failures to his best friend later. Problem was, now the best friend and the love interest were the same person…

"Don't worry about it," Bucky said hurriedly, loving the man all the more for his attempt. "Never was the type for sonnets anyways."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** As mentioned above, I SWEAR I'd had this entire date planned for weeks before seeing Civil War, and actually wrote this particular chapter a few hours before seeing it the day it came out stateside. Odd coincidence in the similarities between their date here in my fic and their afternoon at the boardwalk XD See, Marvel, you should totally just hire me for your script writer.


	18. Hit the Mark

**Author's Note:** Only three more chapters to go you guys! So crazy! That said, this is officially the longest chapter thus far (though 20 will be a good bit longer hah). Make sure to drop a review if you enjoy, they totally make my day and help me keep writing!

* * *

 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**  
Chapter Eighteen: Hit the Mark

The pair walked quietly hand-in-hand for a time. Steve was far too thoughtful for Bucky's taste, so he bumped him lightly with his shoulder and flashed the man a grin. Steve gave a weak laugh and shook his head in response. He smiled, though, and seemed more his usual self when his attention was grabbed by sudden, loud ringing from a nearby booth Apparently they had passed through the crafts section and into the money trap that was the games aisle. A pack of giggling children ran past them, swarming about their legs as they ran from one booth to another.

"Oh hell, let's keep moving," Bucky said. "This is always the worst bit, you know. Every one of these is a total rip-off," he drawled and started walking again. He didn't get far, though, as Steve remained rooted in place, attention fixated on one booth in particular.

"Steve," the ex-soldier said, tone low in warning as he narrowed his eyes at the man beside him.

"Yeah?" the blond replied, attention still on the booth, forcing Bucky to turn and see what it was that had caught his attention about that one in particular.

It was one of a few different shooting games in the aisle, the sort that had the stacked conveyer belts of little white ducks with targets painted on their sides that ran from one side to the other. Hit one and it would topple, earning a point. Hit the elusive golden duck and you got bonus points.

Straight forward enough, and most certainly rigged in the booth's favor.

Steve _appeared_ to be watching the little girl currently wielding the game's cheap bb gun in a dogged pursuit of one of the many overstuffed plush toys that were on display behind the counter. Bucky had to admit, that for all she couldn't be more than nine years old, she handled the miniature rifle with a competency he didn't expect to find in one so young.

In spite of her effort, though, she lost. The expression of bitter disappointment on her round little face as the game manager took back the bb gun was almost too much for even Bucky's cynical heart to handle.

Turned out it was _way_ too much for Steve's more tender one.

Bucky grunted as he was unceremoniously hauled off to the game by their joined hands, arriving just as the middle-aged man behind the counter told the girl "Sorry kid, maybe next time, unless you got money for another round."

"Nah," the kid said with a disappointed sigh when a brief double-check of her pockets turned up nary a dime. She cast a longing look up at a stuffed dolphin almost as big as she was, then turned and wandered off.

Steve stepped up to the booth in her wake, smiling broadly at the game manager as he said "My friend and I would like to play a round," and tugged his date into view.

"Alright, five dollars a try," the carnie said with a lazy smile at the pair.

"Steve," Bucky groused, scowling up at his date as the blond smiled beneficently and proceeded to turn and root through the inside pocket of the the ex-soldier's jacket.

"Yeah, Buck?" the super-soldier asked brightly as he found a few bills and slapped a five down on the counter. The game manager took it, then turned to stick it in his cash box before refilling the bb gun for them.

"You're not seriously about to play this rip-off of a game, are you?"

"No, you are," Steve told him, flashing the shorter man a mischievous grin that immediately peaked both Bucky's interest, and a sense of dread. "And you're going to win me that," he added, pointing to the ridiculously huge dolphin.

Bucky nearly choked. "What? Why?"

"I love dolphins," Steve said, looking positively angelic in the flashing lights of the game booth.

"You're so full of shit," the ex-soldier said with a bark of laughter as the other man accepted the gun, then offered it in turn to Bucky. He rolled his eyes, but accepted it and gave the thing a once over. Bucky could immediately tell that the sights were hopelessly (and most likely _intentionally_ ) misaligned, but the barrel seemed straight enough for the short distance they'd been shooting over.

He looked up as Steve unexpectedly stepped in closer, leaning in a little so his words reached Bucky's ears alone.

"So, you remember that summer right out of school when I got that job at the circus?"

The other man opened his mouth to voice a surprised denial, but hesitated as hazy, half-formed memories _did_ come back to him.

"Yeah...yeah I do," Bucky said as he opened the bb well and checked that he'd actually been given the correct number of shots. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the carnie roll his eyes, but ignored it. "Didn't you quit after two days or something?"

"Yeah," Steve replied with a quiet snort before continuing, "They were ripping people off hard, and I just...well I wasn't poor enough to want to join in, I guess."

Bucky glanced up at the man, gray eyes bright with amusement as a smile curled at the corners of his lips. Honorable man that the super-soldier was, he didn't think Steve would resort to theft if he were literally starving in the streets. It was the sort of thing that lesser men would say, but never be able to live up to...not so with Captain America.

"Anyways," Steve said, clearing his throat with some embarrassment at the look Bucky was giving him. "For the two days I worked there, they had me running a game just like this one."

Bucky lifted his eyebrows in surprise. This was certainly news to him. All he had were vague memories of an irritated Steve coming to meet him after he finished up his shift at the docks one day, declaring that he'd never go back to the circus again.

"You gentlemen ready?" the game manager drawled.

"Just talking strategy, give us a moment," Steve said with a friendly smile over his shoulder at the man. The carnie glanced around and saw that there wasn't anyone else waiting to play at the moment, so he just shrugged.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something rude, but Steve's hand on his arm stopped him, and redirected his attention back to the conversation.

"Like you said," Steve continued, as though they hadn't just been interrupted, voice still low. "It's totally rigged, and not," he added as he flicked the barrel of the bb gun with a finger, "just the gun."

"That so?" Bucky remarked, genuinely surprised, though he probably shouldn't have been. Still, if the games went to such lengths to keep people losing, he supposed that made him feel a little better about all the money he'd wasted down at the pier as a boy, trying to win prizes for girls.

"So, we're going to have to play two rounds to win," Steve explained, his 'strategy' face on as he spoke. "This round, get used to how the gun shoots. Just make sure you hit the yellow duck up at the top first, then aim for the first five white ducks on each of the three rows after the gap."

Bucky glanced up and noted that there was, indeed, a wider than normal gap between ducks on each level. He looked over at Steve as the man continued speaking.

"The white ducks are weighted in a way that effects which ones will actually fall over when hit," he said. "They're made of wood so you can't _hear_ if you hit them, so the game manager can always just claim you missed," he explained with a disgusted snort. "Once I see what they do when you hit them, though, I'll be able to tell how they're weighted so for the _second_ round, I can tell you exactly which ones will actually fall over when you hit them."

Bucky stared up at Steve in wonderment as he asked "So, you're seriously suggesting we scam the game?"

"Why yes, yes I am," the super-soldier replied, looking a little smug.

His date laughed and said, "Who knew Captain America had such criminal inclinations?"

"I do not!" the blond objected, blushing a little at the implication, making Bucky grin wickedly at him as he squared up to the booth, adjusting his grip on the petite bb gun. "It's just...like Robin Hood!" Steve continued. "Scamming the scammers!"

"You don't have to justify your criminal urges to me, Steve," Bucky said, tone supremely casual as the carnie behind the counter started the game running. "I think it's sexy."

Steve choked, but if he said anything, Bucky couldn't hear him over the sudden blare of obnoxious pop music that accompanied the beginning of the game. It was a clever ploy, especially when combined with the flashing lights. It made it nigh impossible to figure out if you had hit the back wall, let alone one of the little white ducks.

Still, Bucky Barnes wasn't your average shooter.

The sniper immediately aimed for the golden duck as he had been instructed by his partner in crime. He missed by a startling margin the first try, but he hit it the second as years of training kicked in and allowed him to adjust expertly to the bb gun's error margin. That done, he turned his attention to the white ducks, which were moving at a slower pace, though not by much. He picked them off as instructed, missing a few, but quickly recouping and managing to hit every duck he'd been told to by the time he reached his last round.

"Ah, sorry boys, looks like you didn't quite manage it," the game manager said with what was no doubt supposed to be a sympathetic chuckle. "Better luck next-"

"We'll take another round please," Steve said with a too-polite smile that would have made Bucky nervous had it been aimed at him. The large man slapped another five dollar bill on the counter and slid it to the game manager, who hesitated, but shrugged and accepted it before starting the game up again.

Now Steve stepped behind Bucky, looming over him as he leaned in so he could speak directly in his ear and be heard over the music.

"Ready?" he asked, and the ex-soldier could hear the grin in his voice.

"When you are."

With Steve's input, Bucky cleaned house, knocking over every duck he turned his attention to. He didn't bother with the sights, crooked as they were, but relied on his years of experience to land the bbs exactly where he wanted them. His friend's constant stream of ' _top row, third from the gap. Second row, second. First row, second.'_ in Bucky's ear was oddly exciting, though the man couldn't have said precisely why. Maybe it was simple proximity. Steve didn't touch him so as not to throw off his aim, but the man was a warm presence at his back that the ex-soldier swore he could feel even through the heavy leather of his jacket.

As the last duck fell, though, and the carnie stared at them it utter shock, Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder and shook him, expression delighted.

"Nice shooting," he said with a grin, eyes bright as he looked at his date.

"Yeah, well, I _have_ done this a few times," Bucky joked as he put the bb gun down on the counter.

"Well, uh, good job. Which one you want, then?" the game manager asked with the fakest smile either man had ever had directed their way.

"I'll take the dolphin," Steve said, canting his head to one side as he smiled benignly at the carnie, making the other man flush awkwardly before fetching his hook to get the plush from where it hung over their heads. The blond probably could have reached it just find on his own, but Bucky got the impression that he enjoyed making the scammer fetch it for him.

The former soldier did his best to repress another smile as Steve graciously accepted his prize, then turned and pressed an unexpected kiss to Bucky's temple.

"Thanks," the blond said, smiling shyly before turning and walking away.

Bucky stood, frozen in place by the sudden display of affection from the other man. The gesture had come as a surprise, but the man realized he didn't object in the least. In fact, if the tightness in his chest was to go by, he rather enjoyed it.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Bucky nodded at the carnie and hurried after his date before he could lose him in the crowd of passersby.

He needn't have worried, though; Steve didn't go far before he seemed to spot something and made a beeline for it.

Or _her,_ Bucky realized when the crowd parted and he watched as Steve dropped to a knee in front of the little girl they had first seen playing the shooting game minutes before.

"Hey," Steve said with a gentle smile as the child eyed him warily. Bucky kept back a few paces so as not to make her uncomfortable. No one could resist Steve's smile, though, and the girl smiled right back after a moment, flashing her gap-toothed front teeth in greeting.

"Hi," she replied shyly.

"I don't really have enough room on my motorcycle for this guy," Steve said, gesturing with the oversized dolphin, still smiling. "So I was wondering if you wanted to take him home? I haven't really got any friends for him back at my place anyways, but I bet you do, huh?"

The little girl stared at Steve, wide eyed with awe as the big man held out the plush for her to take.

"Seriously? You're giving it to me?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, her utter shock actually putting a smile on Bucky's face that he was forced to cover with one gloved hand.

"Seriously," Steve replied solemnly.

The child stared for a moment longer, then grabbed the toy with a delighted yell. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said, squeezing the toy so tight it was a wonder its seams didn't split then and there. "I can't believe you won it yourself! I tried _so many times_ but couldn't even though I'm, like, a super good shot at home with daddy's rifle," the girl chattered enthusiastically as Steve grinned broadly at her happiness, clearly delighted to have brought so much joy with such a simple gesture.

"Well, actually, he won it for me," the blond admitted as he pushed himself to his feet and nodded at Bucky, who looked surprised at being dragged into the conversation.

The girl looked at him and blinked. In what she no doubt thought was a whisper, but was in fact anything but, she asked Steve, "Is he your _boyfriend_?"

The tall man blushed at the unexpected question. "I uh, well-"

"Cuz my brother has a boyfriend that likes to bring him things too, 'just to make him smile', he says," the girl chattered on with the sort of honesty only the very young, and the very old could get away with in polite company.

"D-does he?" Steve asked faintly, fair cheeks still ruddy, and Bucky knew his weren't likely to be any better.

Luckily, like so many children, the girl didn't seem interested in actually waiting around for an answer, so she simply grinned and crossed the distance between herself and Bucky with a few short bounds and threw one of her skinny arms around his waist.

"Thanks," she said, beaming up at him as he reflexively lifted his arms out of her way, startled by the unexpected hug.

"You're welcome," he managed after a moment, relaxing enough to pat her head with his good hand before she released her hold on him and ran off into the crowd, pausing only briefly to wave at them one last time before disappearing for good.

Steve watched her go, a fond smile on his face as he remarked, "God, hope her parents don't hate me too much," and chuckled.

Bucky looked at the blond, the small smile on his features all for him. Acting on impulse, the former soldier reached up and grabbed Steve's head with one hand, then gently pulled him down so he could plant a kiss on his temple without going up on tip-toe.

He released him after a moment, and Steve turned to look at him, expression quizzical, but pleased as he asked "What was that for?"

The shorter man thought for a moment before shrugging and admitting "Just for being you."

* * *

The time passed all too quickly for Steve, who had been enjoying himself on their date even more than he'd anticipated. Considering he'd had a worried moment earlier that evening wondering if Bucky would even show, it was easy to say that the night had turned out very well indeed.

Things had been awkward at first, but as the time wore on, they relaxed and found themselves a new, comfortable middle ground between friendship and romance. Their conversations were much the same as ever, a mix of sarcasm, humor, and goodnatured ribbing. However, the hand holding was a pleasant addition to routine, as were all the other little intimate touches and sweet, quiet words they exchanged.

Needless to say, the super-soldier was reluctant to leave. By the time they started meandering towards the exit, though, they had been around the little carnival at least three times, and not even Steve could come up with a reason to make a fourth round.

"I know it's probably a deathtrap," Bucky remarked, out of the blue as he stopped in the middle of the path, drawing Steve up short beside him. "But you wanna go up?"

Steve turned to see what the other man was looking at, and realized that he meant the ferris wheel. Bucky had a point; the thing definitely looked...rickety. However, the blond found himself smiling as he said, "Sure, why not?"

He hadn't been able to find an excuse to extend their date, but Bucky had, and Steve blessed him silently for it. He could always count on the man to have his back.

Late as it was, they only had to wait in line for a minute before a gondola swung down in front of them and paused to allow them on. The bored looking twenty-something girl operating the ride opened the door, and slammed it shut behind them, having to throw her shoulder into it to force the mechanism to latch.

As they rose slowly into the air, Bucky grimaced and admitted, "I'm having second thoughts."

Steve threw his head back and laughed as he settled back on the bench beside him, hands draped in his lap.

"I don't think the universe has a strong enough sense of irony to kill off Captain America and the Winter Soldier via a tragic ferris wheel accident," the super-soldier reassured him, clearly amused by the thought.

Bucky snorted, "Probably not, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a bitch on the way down."

Steve bumped the shorter man's knee with his own, smiling as he said, "Relax. Enjoy the view."

The former soldier quirked a brow at the blond, but forced himself to take a breath and settle back into the seat, the gentle evening breeze stirring his long hair. He allowed his knee to lightly brush Steve's own as he turned and looked out the side of the carriage. They reached the peak, then, and he watched as the New York countryside spread out beneath them in a shadowy patchwork. There wasn't much to see, all things considered, but the distant twinkling lights were pretty enough, acting as a mirror to the stars spread out above them.

Beside him, Steve stretched broadly, then let one of his arms drop along the back of the bench along Bucky's shoulders. The dark haired man turned, then, and shot the other man an incredulous look.

"Rogers, did you just pull the old 'yawn and stretch' on me?"

"Maybe?" Steve admitted, his smile abashed as he looked at Bucky from under his long, dark lashes. "Depends on if it worked," he added as he looped his arm more firmly around his friend's shoulders and pulled him flush against his side.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the man, but didn't object, once again cursing Steve's strange efficiency with tried and true player tactics.

"Just where did you pick all this up, anyways?" he grumbled quietly as he relaxed against the larger man, enjoying the warmth of him as the cool night air sighed through the open grating of the gondola around them.

Steve laughed again. "Seriously?" he asked, just as incredulous as Bucky had been. When the man just frowned, though, the blond bit back a chuckle and said " _You,_ obviously. Or did you forget all the awkward double dates you dragged me on over the years? You think I wasn't desperate to be just like you when it came to girls? I practically took _notes_ , Buck."

Bucky's jaw dropped open at this revelation, but he snapped it shut just as quickly as Steve practically snickered at him.

"Bet you never thought it'd come back to you like this, huh?" Steve teased.

Dangerously close to blushing again, Bucky grumbled "Shut up. I swear to god I'll throw you off this ferris wheel."

"No you won't," the blond said as he leaned over and planted a kiss on Bucky's cheek. The man growled and pushed at him, but the objection was half-hearted, so Steve pressed another to his temple. He withdrew only a short way, then, and murmured "You're beautiful, you know. Even when you're being a grumpy bastard."

"So romantic," Bucky scoffed, pointedly ignoring the way his heart rate jumped, and the pleasant, tingling sensation the feeling of Steve's breath against neck gave him in his stomach.

"You scare the hell out of me with how much of your trust you place in me," Steve whispered, his tone changing, breath hitching in his chest as he spoke. "I see it in your eyes every time you look at me, and it's simultaneously the most beautiful, and most frightening thing I've ever seen."

A shock ran up Bucky's spine as the man spoke quietly for his ears alone, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Steve beat him to it.

"Just let me say it," the man insisted, words almost desperate in Bucky's ear. "I promised you I'd tell you later, so just let me get it out before you laugh at me," Steve said with a breathless, unsteady chuckle.

The blond released a small sigh of relief when his date shut his mouth and tilted his head slightly to better catch his friend's words. Steve hesitated, though, and for a moment they could hear only the distant sounds of the carnival, and the gentle creaking of the ferris wheel as it turned.

He tried to speak again, but found himself at a loss for words, and the pretty speech he'd been planning all evening flew right out of his head as the frantic pounding of his heart took over. His hands were shaking, Steve realized in a distant way, and he clenched them tightly in an effort to disguise it. Desperate now, the super-soldier pressed a feather-light kiss to Bucky's cheek, then another along his jaw.

Some small noise escaped the dark haired man as Steve kissed him again, just at the corner of his mouth this time. Bucky turned, gray eyes heavily lidded, clearly waiting for more. But Steve stopped short of taking his lips, knowing full well that what he wanted to say needed to be said quickly or he'd likely never get it out.

"When we were boys, Buck, I thought you hung the moon," Steve murmured, the tip of his nose brushing his friend's as their foreheads met. The blond let his eyes drift shut as he slipped his hand across Bucky's shoulders to rest at the nape of his neck. Their breaths mingled, and Steve bit absently at his lower lip for a moment before continuing. "Truth is, I still do. Without you I...I'm like a dead man walking," he admitted quietly, painfully reminded of the years after he'd been dragged from his icy grave before they had, against all odds, found one another again.

"Steve," Bucky said, and though the blond didn't dare open his eyes to look at the other man, he relished the feeling of his friend's fingers slipping through his short hair before his palm came to rest against the line of his jaw.

The super-soldier leaned into the touch a little as he continued, "When you smile it's like watching the sun break through the clouds on a stormy day, and I-"

"Goddammit, Steve," Bucky growled, throat tight and chest aching as he silenced the man with a kiss.

Steve ran his fingers up Bucky's neck to tangle in his long, dark hair, his breath catching at the suddenness of the kiss. He didn't let it continue long, though, and he pulled away to say, "But I have to tell you-"

"I already know, idiot, you don't have to spell it out," Bucky murmured breathlessly against his lips. He slipped his hand from its place along his friend's jaw so it rested against the back of the blond's neck and hauled him in for more.

The gondola lurched around them as they came to a stop halfway to the top of the ride, throwing Steve against the corner of the seat and forcing him to release Bucky in favor of grabbing the bench for support. The shorter man took advantage of the sudden change of position to straddle Steve's legs, knees hugging his hips for purchase as he grabbed the startled blonde by the collar of his striped shirt and hauled him in for a searing kiss.

Left hand occupied with Steve's shirt, Bucky's right slipped to the back of the man's head and tilted it back with firm, but gentle fingers. The movement forced the other man's mouth open and allowed Bucky free access to slip his tongue into his deepest recesses. He rocked his hips reflexively over Steve's, and devoured the moan the movement startled from him.

The ferris wheel lurched into motion again, forcing Bucky to drop his hold on Steve's shirt in favor of grabbing the grating behind the man to keep from falling over. He pinned his friend in place with the weight of his body, and smiled against his mouth when the other man grabbed his hips and forced him down harder onto his lap and the growing tension there.

Steve moaned his name, then, but Bucky swallowed that too, desperate not to break contact, no matter how his lungs screamed for air. They finally did, though, and the blond dropped his head back against the seat, chest heaving as he sucked in great lungfuls of oxygen while Bucky pressed his lips to the hollow just under the corner of his jaw to feel his pulse jump. Still panting for breath, but unable to resist the temptation, the dark haired man trailed kisses down the line of his date's throat, and tugged sharply at the man's shirt, sending buttons four through six flying into the night. The swath of fair skin this revealed made Bucky release a low, pleased hum as he leaned in and lathed the hard line of Steve's exposed collarbone with his tongue.

The ride lurched to a stop again, and this time they were at the bottom.

"Alright, just let me-" the twenty-something girl who ran the ferris wheel began, only to dissolve into a startled squeak at the position the two nice looking gentlemen she'd allowed on just a few minutes before had put themselves in.

Steve writhed under Bucky, trying to push the man off of his lap, blushing furiously at being caught in such a compromising position. Squeezing his knees tighter against the blond's hips and holding onto the grating behind him, though, Bucky refused to be moved. He did, however, release his grip on his friend long enough to hold up a finger to the ride attendant, clearly asking for a moment, then made a sort of circular motion to indicate she should send them around again.

"I-well, uh-" the girl began, flustered and nearly as red in the face as Steve was. "F-fine, just keep it pg-13 guys, geeze," she said and they were off again.

"Buck," Steve said, caught between a hiss and a moan as he wove his fingers through the man's hair and held on tight. He couldn't quite seem to decide whether to push him in closer, or pull him away, though. "Buck, we can't. Come on, that poor kid," he said with a weak laugh that devolved into a gasp as Bucky stripped the glove off his right hand with his teeth, then slipped it under Steve's shirt to rove up the hot skin of the super-soldier's back.

"What, you want me to stop?" Bucky asked without looking up, speaking the words against Steve's flushed skin. He tasted _good,_ the ex-soldier realized, even as some little part of his brain that hadn't quite succumbed to the siren's song of his friend's gasps and moans tried to insist that some rusted out, backwater carnival ride was _not_ the place he wanted to make love to Steve for the first time. He wasn't ready for this, not really, the little voice tried to insist.

' _God, he tastes so fucking amazing, though,'_ the selfish part of Bucky's brain that wanted more whispered.

Suddenly, the man under him surged up and over, and Bucky found himself with his back pressed to the bottom of the seat, Steve on top of him, pinning him in place. The ex-soldier grunted in surprise, and was finally forced to meet the other man's gaze as he wrapped his legs around his waist reflexively.

What he saw almost startled him.

"No," Steve growled, blue eyes electric as he pushed an arm under Bucky's back and hauled him in against his chest, then captured the other man's lips with his own. " _Fuck_ no _,_ " the blond swore into his friend's shoulder when he broke the kiss and ground his hips against the shorter man's, forcing Bucky to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out.

It had only taken the work of a moment, but Steve had completely wrested control of the situation from Bucky, the former soldier realized distantly, and there was nothing he could do about it. Steve's tongue pushed past his lips and teeth to dominate his mouth, and it was all the shorter man could do just to ride it out, surrendering himself to the moment as he clung desperately to the blond. He moved to Steve's will, hips rocking in time with his as the tall man fought for purchase with his feet against the sticky floor of the gondola.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended.

Steve released his hold on Bucky, breathing hard as he said, "But we're going to anyways," and pulled away, straightening his shirt as he settled back against the seat across from the other man.

The former soldier lay dazed across the bench for a moment, staring up at the ceiling as his brain tried to catch up with his libido. While the blond combed his fingers through his own hair in an attempt to tame it again, Bucky narrowed his eyes and shook a finger at him.

"You're a _bastard,_ you know that?"

Steve snorted, but smiled coyly at his friend before remarking "Just because you never met my father, Buck, doesn't mean I don't know who he was."

A bark of laughter escaped the former soldier and he forced himself upright a little unsteadily before doing his best to set himself to order as well. That done, and his discarded glove fetched from the floor, he glanced up at his date again to see Steve looking ruefully down at his shirt, which now hung open almost to the halfway point thanks to Bucky's enthusiastic efforts.

"Here," Bucky said, stripping off his borrowed jacket and handing it back to its owner.

Steve gave him a grateful smile, color still high as he slipped into the leather coat and said, "Thanks." One hand went absently to a small bruise blooming at his collarbone as he mused, "We'd never hear the end of it if Nat caught me with this."

Bucky grimaced. "Sorry, rookie mistake. Got a little...carried away," he admitted with a boyish grin. Unable to resist, he leaned in a little, only to be intercepted by Steve's hand, which the blond planted on his face and used to push him away.

" _What_ have I gotten myself into?" Steve muttered with a low chuckle as he finished zipping up his jacket.

Their carriage swung to a stop at the bottom for the second time, and the girl peeked in warily, an expression of obvious relief taking over her features when she saw both of them sitting like normal adults instead of making out like a couple of horny teenagers.

"You have _no_ idea," Bucky replied cockily with a wolfish grin as the door swung open and they both stepped out.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I have no idea if that's how those old shooting games were rigged, I'm just making this junk up as I go along XDDD On the other hand, I do feel like carnivals/theme parks get a bit of a bad rep when it comes to rigging their games, lol. It's not anywhere near as common as people think it is (these days anyways), especially at larger fairs and even less so than that at theme parks. Those toys they hand out are hella cheap for them to acquire, and seeing other people walking around with prizes actually makes people want to play games themselves, which in turn makes the park/fair more money, so it'd really be against their best interests for them to hand out fewer prizes XD

That said, I couldn't help but use the trope anyways, because Steve being all cunning and Robin Hood-ish is just super fun to write, hah.

Remember to drop a review if you enjoyed, they really make my day and help keep me writing!


	19. Wing(wo)man of the Year

**Author's Note:** So I played a little fast and loose with how Wanda's powers work for this fic, but particularly for this chapter. I'm not sure if MCU Wanda is this straight up telepathic, but for the sake of my fic, she is.

Also, **WARNING:** there is about a paragraph of pretty explicit naughtiness in this chapter, so heads up, haha 8'D

Remember to drop a review if you enjoyed, they super make my day!

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 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Nineteen: Wing(wo)man of the Year

Killing Steve Rogers would be easy, Wanda decided as she stared at the table and took a distracted sip of her beer. Honestly, she could just make him step into the line of fire during a mission, or compel him to jump off Stark tower the next time they stopped in for a visit. _He_ had no immunity to her powers, after all.

"Wanda?"

Bucky, though...Bucky would be tricky. She couldn't just force him to off himself like his boyfriend. No, she'd have to get creative to best the Winter Soldier and still make it look like an accident.

"Wanda? Earth to Wanda..."

Dear god but she was tired. She knew she ought to be ashamed of herself, contemplating the murder of her teammates, but lack of sleep always made her cranky. Pietro had always known better than to get on her bad side when she was short on sleep, but her beloved twin wasn't here now to warn her friends.

The feel of a hand landing on her shoulder and giving her a shake startled the woman from her revelry, and she nearly dropped her drink.

"Wanda!"

"What?" she asked sharply, turning to look at the owner of the hand to see Natasha giving her an amused look.

"Your turn," the spy said as she gestured to the board game spread out on the table before them.

It was game night in the Avengers compound, and the game of choice this evening was Monopoly. It was, in Wanda's opinion, the most boring game on the face of the earth, but it had been Sam's turn to pick, so here they were, stuck using the market forces of capitalism to beat one another into submission via bankruptcy.

"Right, sorry," the brunette said with a shake of her head as she reached for the dice and gave them a roll. She moved her little silver dog piece five spaces, barely scraping past the most expensive properties (Hope had hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place both, awful woman) _and_ pass go.

Vision passed her two hundred dollars from the 'bank' with a smile that she returned in kind and murmured 'Thanks' as she added the bills to her meager pile.

"You alright, Wanda? You seem tired," Steve said, obviously concerned as he turned his attention to her from where he sat across the table. His brows knit worriedly as he watched her, and Wanda had to fight down the urge to throw her drink at him.

Instead, she smiled thinly and said "I'm fine. Just a bit tired."

"You know my door is always open if you need to talk," he offered quietly as Natasha took her turn, cursing when she landed on one of Sam's properties and was forced to pay an exorbitant sum as a result.

"I'm fine," the witch insisted again, not just to the Captain, but to the man seated next to him as well. Bucky had one eyebrow raised in her direction, making his skepticism at her statement perfectly clear.

It wasn't like she wasn't _trying_ to get enough sleep. It would just be so much _easier_ if the two idiots across from her would stop thinking so loudly at all hours of the day and night.

Two weeks. It had been an entire _two weeks_ since Steve and Bucky's date, and _still_ they hadn't had sex. She'd heard the others guessing at where all the pair had been brave enough to do it in the compound when no one was looking, but Wanda knew the truth. They hadn't done it _at all_ , and all the poorly repressed lust, uncertainty, and longing hanging in the air between the two was driving her up the wall.

It was like being in high school all over again.

How two men could so effectively replicate the uniquely hormone heavy atmosphere of an entire school's worth of horny teenagers was beyond her, but they managed it somehow. Then again, she hadn't been a telepath when she'd been in school, and Steve was a _very_ clear broadcaster.

Normally this wasn't such a problem for her. Even at his 'loudest', Steve's thoughts tended to be pretty innocuous, unless they were on mission. He became harder to read when his mind sharpened to a laser like focus on the task at hand, his serum enhanced brain working and calculating faster than her own could even follow. Mostly, though, he worried about the team; worried about her, like he was right now. Wanda wondered if the rest of the Avengers realized just how much he worried over them, but she didn't think so. With the exception of Barnes, of course. He _always_ knew when Steve was fretting.

Under normal circumstances, the man's mind was a pleasant one whose thoughts and feelings were a soft murmur in the back of her mind, like some late afternoon NPR show playing on an old radio in another room. She generally couldn't pick out specific words, just ideas and feelings that surged and fell like huge, rolling ocean waves around her. There was a steady consistency to the mind of Steven Grant Rogers that always made Wanda feel safe and protected, which was probably why she had developed little ability to block him out. She had never really wanted to.

Boy was she regretting her lapse now.

The calm seas of Steve's mind had turned stormy and turbulent of late, full of great, ship killing waves that threatened to swamp the little boat that was Wanda's consciousness and overwhelm her entirely any time she wasn't actively shielding her mind from him. The Captain's orderly thoughts, normally focused on the team and their mission with only the occasional distraction, now ran wild any time he and Bucky were in the same room.

Steve managed to keep up appearances in front of the others, and during his office hours, he could almost fool even Wanda into thinking that things were back to normal. Beneath the calm surface of his mind, though, previously still waters now swirled with a dangerous current that would spike at random and throw his thoughts into chaos once more.

He _wanted_ Bucky with an intensity that continuously surprised the witch. During his weakest moments, Wanda didn't just feel Steve's longing, that ache in his gut that threatened to swallow him up, she would catch flashes of all his deepest desires. The woman was haunted by thoughts of Bucky that were not her own. She was plagued by the feel of her mouth on his, was intimately familiar with the taste of his skin and the scent of his hair. Cursed by an animal need to have him on her, under her, _in_ her, Wanda had taken to avoiding both men in an attempt to save her sanity _and_ her dignity.

Not that it did any good. The meager distance between herself and Steve, even when on opposite ends of the compound, was nowhere near far enough to mute his thoughts. He was simply too strong of a broadcaster, the opposite of his would-be lover.

Where Bucky's decades of torture and mind-control seemed to have gifted him an uncanny ability to sense and resist telepathy, Steve's years of standing strong for what he believed in against all comers had made even his _thoughts_ powerful and commanding. Wanda's meager defenses against them were cracking, even now, as she sat smiling weakly at the man across from her.

She _hated_ having to block out Steve. The Captain was the unshakable pillar that supported their group. He was their heart and guiding light in the storm of uncertainty that was the world they operated in on a daily basis. More importantly, though, was if Clint were the father figure she had lacked since she was ten, then Steve was the elder brother she and Pietro never had growing up. While they didn't always see eye-to-eye, he was always kind, always thoughtful, and always ready with a helping hand. And if he couldn't help, he'd find someone who _could._

In the wake of Pietro's death, Steve's constant, steady presence had been a balm to her wounded psyche, even if he hadn't realized it. She had resented the man for it at first, irrationally convinced that he was trying to supplant her twin's place in her heart for some nefarious reason she hadn't been able to understand at the time. After all, no one was that good, that kind, _that_ full of light…

Against all odds, though, he was.

Not that their Captain didn't have his shadows. It had taken her time to find them, but for some reason, their presence in his mind had been what made her trust him at long last. His control over them only made the light of his convictions seem all the brighter, which never ceased to amaze her. She had never been able to discern just what lurked in that darkness, but she had her suspicions.

The more she looked at those shadows, the more they resolved themselves into a familiar silhouette.

Bucky Barnes was, thank goodness, still far more quiet in his thoughts than his partner. Wanda simply found it difficult to be around the man when she was constantly being bombarded from all sides by Steve's intimate thoughts about him. If she didn't focus, then _she_ would start thinking about enacting all those wanton desires on the former Winter Soldier, and that was the last thing she needed.

Even he had his occasional breaks, though.

Just yesterday she had been sitting at one end of the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee while Barnes sat at the other reading something on his tablet. A moment of blessed peace had reigned between them...until Steve had walked into the adjoining kitchen. The blond had flashed them both a grin when they looked around, then turned to the refrigerator in search of something to drink.

Steve had, Wanda remembered vividly, been wearing a pair of little nylon running shorts that showed off a _lot_ of leg, and a white tank top that might as well have been spray painted on that immaculate chest of his. The fine sheen of sweat left over from his run practically made him glow under the kitchen lights, and even Wanda had to admit that the man was quite an eyeful, though it wasn't her habit to think of him that way.

She blamed Barnes.

Wanda knew trouble was coming the moment the Captain opened the fridge and bent over to examine its contents. He was blatantly trying to goad Bucky into doing something with that outfit, and the pose he struck as he rooted around in the refrigerator only sealed it.

Though Bucky didn't so much as twitch externally, she _felt_ his mental shields crack, then shatter, slapping her with a vivid image of the dark haired man forcefully bending Steve over the kitchen table and-

Wanda had fled, muttering god knew what excuse to be anywhere but there. Or she thought she had, anyways. For all she knew, she might have run screaming from the room. She was so tired these days that she was having trouble keeping track of what she was thinking versus what she was actually doing at any given moment.

The dice made their way around the table three more times, and the witch actually managed to rake in some money when Scott had an unlucky streak and landed on two of her best properties two turns in a row. As a bonus, she landed in jail, which bought her some time to build up some cash before having to go around the hazard dotted board again. Two hundred dollars for passing go was chump change in exchange for that freedom.

"Well, I'm out," Steve said with an expressive sigh when he landed on Hope's Boardwalk and was forced to hand over all of his money _and_ his properties to pay off the debt. The woman gave a small, triumphant grin, but Cap just chuckled and waved off Bucky's offers to help him out so he could stay in the game. "Think I'm going to call it a night, actually. You kids play nice," he instructed the others as he got to his feet, pausing only to drop a kiss on the top of Bucky's head.

Natasha cooed sweetly at the pair, and the ex-soldier scowled at her. He reached out and flicked one of her houses off the property nearest him, shooting it directly into her forehead with uncanny accuracy.

The spy yelped and slapped a hand to her hairline as the others at the table laughed, and Bucky smiled wickedly.

"I said play _nice,_ Buck," Steve chided the man lightly as he ruffled his dark, unbound hair before walking to the door. He paused, flashing the group one last smile as they all called goodnight (Well, most of them. Sam called him a wimp for cutting out early.), then let his eyes linger briefly on Bucky's back. Wanda could feel him wish that the other man would quit too and join him, follow him back to his room where they -

Wanda sighed and took a long sip of her beer as she bolstered her flagging shields so she wouldn't have to know just what it was Steve wanted to do to the other man back at his place.

God, how dense _was_ Bucky, though, she wondered. You'd have to be blind not to catch the hints Steve was dropping at every turn…

The witch narrowed her eyes as she watched the dark haired man across from her. He was staring a little _too_ hard at the game board, considering it wasn't even his turn. She realized, then, that of course Bucky Barnes wasn't dense. Of _course_ he caught the hints, and could read Steve's open invitations clear as day.

He was just ignoring them.

And here was the crux of what _really_ puzzled Wanda about the whole situation. It was obvious that both men wanted one another (desperately), if their constant daydreams of all the depraved things they wanted to do to each other was anything to go on. It was also clear that Steve wasn't the one with the hang-ups, considering that his little stunt in the kitchen was far from his first gambit at instigating something with Barnes.

Wanda knew better than most that, while there was plenty of making-out happening between the two men whenever they thought no one was looking (and sometimes even when they _were_ ), things hadn't made it past second base. She knew this was slowly driving Steve mad. It hadn't really hit her until that moment, though, that it was Bucky holding them back, of all people. He certainly wasn't the one _she_ would have put her money on for that sort of shyness.

At this rate, though, Bucky Barnes' habit of blue balling Steve Rogers was going to kill her.

Maybe, Wanda thought tiredly as she passed the game dice on to Sam after failing to roll her way out of jail, this was just like their date. If someone just gave Bucky a little push, he'd finally work up the nerve to do the deed with his boyfriend, they'd work all the hormones out of their systems, and Wanda would finally be able to get a little _goddamn_ _sleep._

The woman took a fortifying drink of her beer, then reached out with her magic and 'knocked' politely on Bucky's mental barrier.

The ex-soldier gave a start and looked around, confused. No one else appeared to have heard the sound, though, making him frown thoughtfully to himself, gray eyes narrow as he scanned the table, the dice rattling in the palm of his left hand.

"Well, are you gonna _roll_ or just squint menacingly at us for the rest of the night?" Scott drawled as he fiddled absently with his half-full bottle of beer.

"You haven't seen menacing yet," Bucky replied with a snort.

A teasing grin overtook the engineer's face as he said, "I dunno, I'm pretty sure you were trying to set my hair on fire with your laser vision that morning I found you and Steve cuddling on the sofa."

Sam barked out a laugh, and Hope did her best to suppress a smile as Bucky's grip on the dice tightened, silencing their rattle.

"What, is that all?" Nat said and rolled her eyes. "I walked in on them making out on top of a pile of heavy bags in the gym day before yesterday."

"I mistakenly interrupted them exchanging affections in the observation deck earlier today," Vision chimed in helpfully, seeming completely unbothered by this fact.

Wanda fought the urge to trump them all with stories of what the pair _thought_ about doing to one another, but resisted. She still hadn't figured out how to kill Barnes yet, after all, and he was a dead shot with a sniper rifle.

"This," Scott proclaimed smugly, "was a week before the mission at the dam."

Sam's mouth dropped into a little 'o' of surprise, and a crow of laughter escaped Natasha. Even Wanda was surprised by this revelation.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Hope chided Scott, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Sorry baby," he said "Snitches get stitches, ya know?" the man added with a grin and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Report for your stitches in the morning, then," Bucky said blandly and rolled the dice. The white cubes tumbled to a stop before a wide-eyed Scott as the former soldier continued, "Too busy kicking your ass metaphorically to bother with the literal at the moment."

"What? But...come on! You and Cap totally hooked up and everyone _knows,_ so it's not a secret anymore, right?"

Bucky just raised an eyebrow at the man, who in turn looked desperately at the rest of the team present at the table. Wanda just shrugged, and Sam gave the man a shit-eating grin.

"Sorry, tic-tac, you opened that can of worms all by yourself."

Finding no haven amongst their friends, the engineer turned back to Bucky and declared "I'll...I'll tell Rogers!"

The ex-soldier just raised his other eyebrow, offering no comment to this threat, deciding to let the man sweat as he moved his little top hat piece across the board. He landed on the 'Chance' tile, and drew the appropriate card.

 _Go directly to Jail. Do not pass go, do not collect $200._

Bucky did as instructed, then passed the dice to Vision, ignoring Scott's complaints that he was being bullied. The ex-soldier placed his piece next to Wanda's in the orange square, and after a moment, she reached out with thin fingers and plucked the hat from the board, then placed it on the head of her little pewter dog.

His mouth twisted in amusement as he observed the jaunty angle at which his piece sat on hers. Before he could make some comment, though, he heard the odd tapping noise again, making him look around, brow furrowed in confusion. Once more, though, no one else seemed to have noticed. He glanced up at Wanda, mouth opening to ask if she had heard anything, only for her to arch one of her delicate eyebrows at him and tap her temple with one black painted fingernail. The tapping sound repeated itself in time with her gesture.

Bucky's eyes widened fractionally as things clicked, and he realized that it was _Wanda_ making the noise. He frowned thoughtfully at her across the table, then slowly, deliberately, lowered his guard a fraction to allow her in.

' _Finally,'_ she mused, her mental voice echoing oddly in his headspace. He almost thrust her right back out again out of reflex, but took a breath and steadied himself.

' _May I help you?'_ he asked, voice painfully bland, and Wanda could feel him building another barrier beneath them, effectively cutting her off from his subconscious and anything else he didn't want her to 'see'. It was a telepath's equivalent of hiding the dirty laundry and other miscellaneous junk in the bedroom when you had unexpected company.

She watched him for a moment, then asked ' _How do you do that?'_

With her inside his head, Bucky didn't have to ask what she meant. Their thoughts mingled, and he simply knew _._ It was a vaguely uncomfortable sensation, but undeniably useful.

' _Dunno. Just a reflex,'_ he answered with a mental shrug as he took a sip of his beer and re-ordered his property cards while Sam and Scott argued about how much money one owed the other.

The girl hummed absently, then remarked ' _You're the only one on the team that can do it.'_

Bucky was surprised by this, and the witch caught it. He felt her smile, though her actual lips were pursed thoughtfully as she neatened her little stacks of money.

' _Not even Nat?'_ he asked, gray eyes darting briefly to the redhead in question, who was grinning at the argument unfolding between her teammates. Her feet were tucked up under her, and she traced the lip of her half-empty scotch glass with a red lacquered nail as she broke out into a laugh when Scott threw a tiny plastic hotel at Sam.

' _Natasha is...different,'_ Wanda said after a moment. ' _You build barriers to keep me out and your thoughts in. Nat just...Nat's thoughts are quiet, and hard to get a read on unless I'm really focusing. Especially when Steve is within five miles of her.'_

The witch snorted as she mentioned his friend, and Bucky raised a mental eyebrow in question, if not a literal one. Last thing he needed was for someone to ask why he and Wanda were making odd faces at one another.

' _What's Steve got to do with it?'_

The woman was quiet for a moment, and Bucky felt a strange, complicated surge of emotion from her. Mostly, he realized, it was exasperation. There was a fair dose of affection there as well, though, mingling with downright exhaustion.

' _That man is the loudest thinker I have ever met.'_

Bucky started to ask what she meant, but she beat him to it. Rather than express it in words, she pushed the answer directly into his head. He blinked, and realized that he suddenly understood the woman's powers in a way he never had before. He mulled this new information over for a moment, and she waited patiently as he processed it.

' _Oh,'_ he said simply after a moment, understanding.

He felt Wanda smile again, and had a feeling that she was holding something back from him, but decided not to push.

Meanwhile, the witch decided not to unload her recent problems involving their Captain's powerful broadcasting capabilities on Bucky for the moment.

' _So what do you want, then?'_ he asked bluntly. ' _Not that this isn't interesting and all. Have you mentioned this skill to Steve?'_

Taken off guard by the subject change, Wanda shook her head mentally and admitted, ' _No. This is my first time talking to anyone but Pietro like this.'_

Bucky was silent, then, and even from inside his own head, Wanda couldn't get a feel for what he might be thinking.

' _You're better at it than he was,'_ she said into the silence between them, her mental voice suddenly sounding very small and vulnerable.

The former soldier didn't respond in words. There was no need, he realized, relieved. No need to fumble for the right things to say in the wake of that sort of heavy admission. Instead, he responded with feelings of empathy and compassion. He harbored an intimate understanding of loss in the shadows of his heart, and he opened it a little for the girl seated across the table from him, allowing her a rare glance within.

The gesture stole Wanda's breath, and she pushed away from the table as tears threatened to spring to her eyes. The woman went to the refrigerator to fetch herself another beer, buying her a few precious moments to get herself under control once more. She returned with two bottles, and dropped one in front of Bucky on her way back to her seat.

"Oh no, no one else here needed another drink or anything," Sam grumbled as he pushed out of his chair and went to get another beer himself.

"That's why I didn't ask," Wanda countered even as she struggled to open her beer. She smiled at Bucky when he reached over and popped the top off with the thumb of his left hand. The little ridged disk went sailing into the air, and he caught it deftly, then tossed it over his shoulder. It landed in the trash can with a quiet clink as Sam walked past.

"Show off," the man snorted quietly.

Bucky and Wanda shared an amused look, and settled back into their mental conversation after the ex-soldier took a moment to roll the dice. Luckily, he failed to escape jail, and even earned some cash off Vision when the technopath landed on one of his properties.

' _So what did you want?'_ Bucky asked Wanda again. This time there was an undercurrent of...appreciation that the woman had chosen to speak to him on such an intimate level. He acknowledged what an important step it was for her without being forced to find the words to express the feeling.

He could get used to this.

' _I was just going to suggest that you go after Steve,'_ Wanda replied after a thoughtful moment during which Bucky could not read her. ' _I_ _ **know**_ _you notice the hints he drops, Barnes. You should stop ignoring them.'_

Bucky went still, but no one other than the witch seemed to notice.

Before he could make a snappy response, she added, ' _I'd give him a few minutes, though.'_

' _What?'_ He asked, confused, wrong-footed by her statement.

' _Steve,'_ she repeated, as though he were being slow. ' _Wait a few minutes. He's in the shower.'_

Bucky clenched his jaw, and Wanda felt him clamp down on his mental shield, for which she blessed him. No doubt he was imagining all _sorts_ of things right now. She really should have known better than to mention that his boyfriend was in the shower, but exhaustion was making her slip.

' _Are you spying on him?'_ the man demanded, surprising her.

' _No,'_ she answered pointedly, narrowing her eyes at him from across the table ' _We've been over this, Barnes. Steve is a very loud broadcaster; I just...can't help but hear what he's up to.'_ she explained, then sighed and added, ' _Especially when I'm tired.'_

Though the man's face was expressionless as he sipped his beer, she could sense the turmoil of his thoughts, apparently torn on whether or not he should be annoyed that she knew when his boyfriend was showering.

Frustrated, tired, and suddenly swamped by another powerful wave from Steve, Wanda said ' _Like now. He's definitely masturbating right now,'_ against her better judgement. Then (whether out of spite, or in hope of spurring Bucky into action, she wasn't sure), Wanda used her power to form a one-way bridge between the overwhelming sensory information she was getting from Steve, and Bucky's brain.

It took all of Bucky's self-control not to cry out in surprise at the sudden influx of thoughts and feelings that were not his own.

Though he was still seated at the table in the rumpus room, he was now _also_ in the shower, warm water coursing over his fair skin and through his short, golden hair. His hot breath mingled with the steam that clouded the air and fogged the glass of the shower door as he sighed, hand slipping down the flat expanse of his stomach to grip his cock. It was already hard under his palm as he began to work himself with slow, rhythmic strokes, and he bit down on his lower lip to muffle a moan. Then, suddenly, Bucky was Steve fantasizing about Bucky's own hands running up his thighs to grab his hips as his tongue lathed lazily over the blond's navel. He kissed his way south down the trail of fine, golden-brown hair below it and Bucky-as-Steve gasped, his eyes fluttering closed as he teased his tip with the pad of his thumb, imagining Bucky doing the same with his tongue before taking him fully in his mouth, and -

The ex-soldier spit his mouthful of beer across the table and the spell broke as his friends all shouted in surprise and disgust.

"Aw come on, man!" Sam cried. "Vision's joke wasn't _that_ funny. Damn!"

Wanda had only just managed to avoid catching a facefull, and Natasha chucked a napkin at him, her pretty face contorted in distaste and amusement. Vision was smiling proudly, clearly thinking that the man sitting next to him had found whatever joke he'd made hilarious as Bucky caught the napkin and used it to mop at his face and shirt. He ducked his head so his long hair hid his burning cheeks while Scott howled with laughter.

' _Smooth,'_ Wanda said from where she still lingered at the back of his mind.

' _Shut up.'_

Bucky was still trying to regain his equilibrium and pointedly ignoring the teasing of his teammates when Wanda spoke again.

' _You two need to just fuck already'_ she stated with a bluntness that was surprising even from her.

' _Excuse me?'_ Bucky demanded, bordering on furious as he got out of his seat and went to the kitchen sink to clean up further when Nat's paper napkin proved unequal to the job. Everyone else at the table must have noticed the sharpness of his gestures and the stiff way he held his shoulders, as they quickly lay off on the teasing despite his carefully neutral expression. If he hadn't been so pissed at Wanda, he would have been touched that they had all learned to read him well enough to know when to stop pushing something.

Wanda knew she had angered him, but apparently she was past the point of caring, as she simply said ' _I'm tired of drowning in all these hormones. It's high school all over again.'_ Her tone was sharp, but Bucky could sense a strange fragility behind her words. ' _It's making it very hard to sleep at night.'_

Bucky paused where he stood in front of the sink, warm water coursing over his hands and the clean towel he had fetched off the oven handle. A lack of sleep was something he could sympathize with, and now that he thought about it, he realized that Wanda _had_ seemed out of it lately. Uncharacteristically sluggish in the mornings, drinking even more coffee than normal…

Everything clicked a moment later, and his gut clenched in horror as he realized what he and Steve had been putting the girl through.

The man gave a start when someone reached around him and turned off the water, making him look down sharply to see Wanda smiling a tired, but reassuring, smile up at him.

It was enough of a distraction to pull Bucky back to the task at hand, and he wrung out the towel some before wiping at his black t-shirt with it.

' _If it makes you feel better, it's mostly been Steve. I've hardly gotten anything off of you,'_ Wanda told him a moment later ' _It's just-'_

Bucky grimaced as, again, his mental contact with the woman allowed him to understand her without her having to explain. She was feeling everything Steve was feeling...no wonder she'd been avoiding him. Talk about awkward.

He realized with a heavy heart that Wanda would have been saved a lot of pain if he could just man up and take things to the next level with Steve. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to, but…

Wanda's eyes widened a little as a series of complicated emotions and thoughts reached her, bubbling up through Bucky's mental shield directly from his subconscious. She placed a sympathetic hand on his right arm, but the man refused to look at her.

To say that Bucky Barnes felt intimidated at the prospect of sleeping with his boyfriend was an understatement.

It wasn't just that he'd never been with a man before. The internet was a terrible, but undeniably useful thing these days; an invaluable resource in Bucky's many forays into understanding the modern world. The sheer scope of the porn available at the click of a button was mind boggling to the man, and he'd found no shortage of study material. Most educational of all, though, were the links _someone_ (or someones?) on his team had been anonymously sending him via text and email for the last couple of weeks. He wasn't sure who it was, but he'd been desperate enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

At this point, Bucky was well versed in all the technical details. No, his hang-up didn't come from ignorance on the subject so much as it did from a deep seated worry that he'd still disappoint Steve, despite all his research. He loved the man, wanted everything to be perfect, wanted to do things _right_ because that's what Steve damn well deserved.

All these thoughts had rattled around his head day in and day out since their date. Sure, he'd talked a big game coming off that ferris wheel, but damn if he hadn't caught himself a case of performance anxiety when it actually came down to doing the deed. Didn't help that he hadn't been with _anyone_ since the nineteen-forties.

' _I just...'_ Bucky began helplessly, unsure of what to say as he and Wanda took their seats back at the table once more. He rolled the dice, barely noticing that he finally managed to get out of jail.

' _You just what?'_ Wanda asked as Vision took his turn. ' _You_ _ **love**_ _him, so go make love_ _**to**_ _him,'_ she instructed her friend emphatically, and he lifted his head to look at her, gray eyes widening a fraction. ' _It's not complicated, Barnes,'_ she added, tone gentler now. ' _You're just making it that way. Stop thinking about it so much and just do it.'_

Bucky stared at the young woman across from him long enough that Natasha noticed and waved her hand between them.

"You guys alright?" she asked with an arch of her eyebrow, smile wry. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Looks like a high-stakes staring contest to me," Sam said with a chuckle.

Bucky ignored them, and Wanda smiled as she felt the man come to a decision.

"Not at all," the witch murmured with a smile as she lowered her gaze from Bucky's and rolled the dice. She stared at the number they presented, then winced when she moved her piece and promptly lost half of her money to Scott, who grinned evilly and rubbed his hands like some sort of orphan hating Dickens villain.

"Hah! Pay up, kid!" the engineer crowed.

Wanda groaned and started counting out the fee. ' _I blame you,'_ she thought pointedly at Bucky.

The soldier just raised an eyebrow at her, then went to get another beer to fortify himself with. Alcohol didn't do anything to him anymore, but it was the principle of the thing. There was tradition behind the gesture, and the familiarity of it bolstered Bucky's resolve.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Just an advanced warning, chapter 20 is going to be nothing but explicit smut and fluff, so if you're not into reading that sort of thing then come back for chapter 21, which will also be the final chapter of this fic!


	20. Something Wicked

**Author's Note: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED MATURE! It's nothing but smut, so wait til next weeks chapter to read again if you're not into that!** It's all sweet and consensual, but I know not everyone is into smut, so consider this your warning.

This chapter is so long, guys. The longest chapter by far 8'D Why does this always happen to me...-sighs-

Well, thanks again to my wonderful beta, nighttimelights, for bearing through all this and reigning in my comma usage and other such atrocities I commit on my work.

Make sure to leave a review if you enjoyed, they really make my day and help me keep writing!

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 **The Times They Are A-Changin'  
** Chapter Twenty: Something Wicked

A strange sense of deja vu washed over Steve as he woke just after midnight, the sound of someone entering his room pulling him from half-remembered dreams.

This time, though, he didn't make a grab for his shield.

"Bucky?" he asked, immediately concerned as he pushed himself upright, rubbing fitfully at one eye with the heel of his palm.

The man in question stood in the door, hovering just outside the pool of moonlight that spilled from the window across the bed and onto the floor. The blinds that covered it cut dark ribbons through the soft white glow, making the room feel strangely elongated, as though the door were much further away than normal; the distance between the two men felt like miles rather than feet.

Bucky didn't answer, just reached up and pushed his hair absently from his face with his good hand, the long strands hanging loose down to his shoulders. Steve couldn't make out his face from where he stood in the shadows. Worry made his gut clench, pushing him to speak again, his voice low and gentle.

"Did you have another nightmare?" he asked as he reached over to turn on his bedside lamp.

In a flash, Bucky was at his bedside, right hand clamped around Steve's wrist before he could follow through. The blond blinked in surprise and looked at him, brows knit with concern.

"Buck?" he asked warily, wondering if maybe this was worse than last time, if maybe Bucky was having a relapse of some sort in the wake of a particularly intense nightmare. He immediately discarded the thought as soon as it crossed his mind, though. He couldn't make out the other man's eyes in the darkness, but he didn't seem dangerous. Bucky's hold on his wrist, while firm, didn't hurt as he gently guided it away from the lamp before releasing it.

"Steve," the man said at last. His voice was low and raw, and it sent a jolt of desire shooting straight down Steve's spine, his jaw clenching reflexively.

Bucky perched on the edge of the mattress, and Steve noticed distractedly that the man had managed to close the door behind him before making it to his bedside. He felt Bucky's weight shift, but was still taken by surprise when the dark haired man leaned in and kissed him.

It was warm and gentle and languid, a sweet torment that made Steve's toes curl and his eyes drift shut as he savored the sensation. He let his lips part with a sigh, a silent invitation for Bucky to deepen the kiss. The other man obliged, and a quiet sound escaped Steve as Bucky's tongue slipped into his mouth to twine lazily with his own.

They went on that way for some time, and Steve could feel his temperature spike as his heart beat faster, sending blood south so fast he felt dizzy. Or maybe that was just the kiss. Steve always felt a little light headed when Bucky kissed him, and the other man was doing a hell of a job right now, that much was certain.

He still felt dazed when Bucky finally pulled back, but by this time Steve's eyes had adjusted and he could finally make out the other man's face. The expression he saw there was intense, and the super-soldier wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Bucky still hadn't said a word beyond his name, and the silence that reigned between them now prompted Steve into saying the first thing that popped into his head.

"If you wanted a kiss goodnight, you just had to say so," he muttered with a nervous smile. He felt ridiculous as soon as the words escaped him. Steve cleared his throat and moved to sit a little straighter, only to find his movement hampered when Bucky placed his hand on the blond's chest.

Steve was shirtless, and the metal of Bucky's left hand was cool against his flushed skin, making goosebumps ripple outward from the point of contact. The taller man's eyes widened fractionally when Bucky used his hand to push him gently, but firmly, back onto the bed.

"I'm not here for just a kiss," the man said with a quiet ferocity that made Steve's heart skip a beat.

Bucky's eyes were half lidded as he watched the other man's head hit the pillow behind him, putting up little resistance to his unspoken command. Steve was watching him closely in turn, blue eyes never leaving him as the former soldier shifted position and climbed up onto the bed proper to straddle his hips.

"What are you here for, then?" Steve asked and licked his lips absently, head tilted to get a better look at the man who now loomed over him.

Bucky just raised one eyebrow and smirked in that particular way he had, the way that always threatened to send Steve mad with either want or frustration. Right now, though, want was definitely front and foremost as the other man reached out and took Steve's hands in his, gently guiding them up over the blond's head. Bucky leaned in and captured the super-soldier's parted lips with his, the weight of his body bearing Steve's hands down against the mattress and holding them there.

Bucky sighed through his nose, reveling in the way Steve's lips moved against his before parting again to encourage him to deepen the kiss. Bucky smiled against his mouth and he could practically feel the blush creep across the blond's face in response. He obliged, though, moving slowly at first, a gentle echo of the kiss they'd shared a moment before. It wasn't long before Steve was demanding more, though, nipping almost painfully at Bucky's lower lip before pushing his tongue into the other man's mouth with the sort of single-minded intensity that had rendered the shorter man defenseless two weeks before on the ferris wheel.

Bucky fought back, playing dirty as he used his grip on Steve's hands to keep him pinned and helpless when he broke the kiss. A frustrated noise escaped the super-soldier as he panted for breath, but it quickly morphed into a blissful groan when Bucky kissed his way hungrily down the line of his throat.

"Bucky," he panted as the man in question sat back slightly to extend his reach down to Steve's collarbone. Bucky didn't answer though, and Steve huffed, pushing ineffectively against the man's hold on his hands before resorting to arching his back in hopes of making some contact between their bodies besides hands and lips. "You're killing me here," Steve groaned when his attempt failed.

Bucky glanced up at him from where he was currently paying his respects directly over Steve's heart and caught the man's eyes. The blond's hair was tousled, lips red from the intensity of their kisses as he stared him down hungrily. A jolt shot straight down to Bucky's groin.

"You've managed to survive worse," the former soldier said with a flash of a wicked grin before he turned his attention to one of Steve's nipples and ran his tongue over it experimentally.

Steve's breath hitched at the sensation and he bit down on his lip as Bucky noted his reaction and drew an idle circle with the tip of his tongue, then nipped lightly at the hardening bud. An actual whimper escaped the blond then, making the other man look up, eyebrows raised.

"Not sure I have, actually," Steve insisted, mentally cursing the blankets that trapped his legs against the mattress where Bucky kneeled over him. If he could just get a little leverage, he could shake off Bucky's hold on his hands and show him what for…

He couldn't though, and Steve found himself succumbing to the other man's will, even as it slowly drove him to the brink. The heat of Bucky's mouth on his skin was the purest form of torture, and being unable to even run his hands over the other man's body verged on outright cruelty.

Unlike his partner, Bucky was still fully dressed, clad in a black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, though his feet were bare. In Steve's mind, this was completely unacceptable.

"Please, let me touch you," he begged shamelessly, the muscles of his arms and chest flexing as he tried to push Bucky off of him. Steve sagged abruptly back against the mattress with a moan as Bucky took pity on him and lowered his hips just enough to brush over the blond's rapidly growing erection.

Rather enjoying the reaction this got him, Bucky lifted his head to watch Steve's face intently as he rolled his hips again. The blond threw his head back with a sharp inhalation, eyes shut tight at the sensation. Bucky repeated the motion, coaxing Steve to move in time beneath him. The man growled in frustration as the blankets continued to pin his hips, limiting his mobility.

A smug smile played across Bucky's lips as he asked, all innocence, "What's wrong, Steve?" Having Captain America pinned to the bed, writhing helplessly beneath his hips, hands, and mouth was doing funny things to Bucky Barnes. The sounds his touch elicited from Steve's swollen lips were like music to his ears. Each gasp pushed him a little closer to the edge of abandon, and every moan threatened to shatter his self-control.

All thoughts of how nervous he'd been to take the next step with the man, who even now tilted his chin back to bare his throat invitingly, had been pushed to some far corner of his mind and forgotten.

Bucky smiled to himself again and leaned in, accepting the unspoken invitation, and ran his tongue up the column of Steve's throat. Once again, the former soldier couldn't help but relish the taste of his skin, and allowed himself to linger a moment along his jaw and mouth before switching his hold on Steve's wrists to his left hand alone.

The super-soldier, sensing a moment of weakness, pushed up in an attempt to escape and take control, but failed in the face of the unwavering strength of Bucky's left arm. The soft whir of machinery as he bore down was the only evidence that the other man was having to try any harder to hold him in place. Steve cursed silently as his mouth was otherwise occupied at the moment, though his missed opportunity was quickly forgotten as Bucky's right hand drifted down the length of his arm and over his ribs to graze along his hip. Calloused fingers slipped beneath the edge of the blanket in search of the waistband of the blond's pajama pants. Not finding it, Bucky's brow furrowed and he slid his hand further down, tracing the hard line of the man's hipbone until he reached the top of his leg.

Curious, Bucky broke their kiss and looked down between them, then shifted his weight a little to free a corner of the blanket. He tugged it aside, exposing a swath of bare skin that ran from Steve's waist down to his knee with not a strip of clothing to be found.

"Oh," Bucky said, the butterflies in his gut fluttering at this unexpected discovery as the blood rushed from his head. Well, he certainly hadn't seen _that_ coming. He glanced back up at Steve, who seemed torn between staring him down unashamedly and looking literally anywhere else.

The blond didn't reply, just bit his lip and let his eyes drift shut when Bucky slid his right hand up his bare thigh and let his palm rest, broad and warm, on his hip.

"Since when do you sleep in the buff?" the shorter man asked, still smiling, his tone both teasing and intrigued as his thumb stroked slow circles over his friend's skin. Steve had never, in all their time knowing one another, been the type to sleep without _something_ on. Pre-serum, the man had practically bundled up before bed, particularly in winter. After, he had at least worn underwear.

Steve swallowed hard and finally met Bucky's eyes again. "Since I started hoping you'd sneak in here some night and do unspeakable things to me," he admitted, blush returning full force as his bravery deserted him once more and he averted his gaze, wondering what had possessed him to actually speak the words aloud. _So cheesey_. Like something out of one of those awful Captain America porn parodies he _definitely_ hadn't watched.

Bucky's gray eyes widened fractionally in surprise. "Unspeakable, huh?" he asked as he licked his lips absently, then finally released his hold on Steve's wrists.

The blond, transfixed by his partner's mouth, did not immediately notice the unexpected return of his freedom. He pushed himself up onto his elbows when Bucky slipped off the bed and strode back to the bedroom door, and for a moment, Steve panicked, thinking he'd come on too strong, said something that put the other man off…

The sound of the deadbolt sliding home put an immediate stop to his fears. Steve watched as Bucky stood by the door for a moment, fingers lingering on the latch before he glanced back over his shoulder and remarked casually, "Wouldn't want the team trying to take advantage of that open door policy of yours while I'm in the middle of doing unspeakable things to their Captain."

The words combined with the way Bucky looked at him from under his dark lashes sent a shiver running down Steve's spine as heat pooled in his belly.

"Wouldn't be professional," Steve agreed distractedly while Bucky turned and dragged his shirt up and over his head, casting it aside carelessly as he strode back to the bed. His jeans rode low on his hips, and it suddenly occurred to the super-soldier that the other man definitely wasn't wearing underwear.

When Bucky reached the bed once more Steve sat up and reached for him, intending to grab him and pull him in against his chest, slide his hands down that well muscled back to slip under the waist of those jeans and-

Bucky beat him to it. Planting his hand in the center of Steve's chest, he shoved him back onto the bed yet again. Before Steve could do more than grunt in surprise when his head hit the pillow, the other man hauled the blankets off the bed and cast those aside as well, startling a yelp from the blond as cool air hit his overheated skin.

"Buck!" he objected, voice dangerously close to a shout. Afraid of being overheard, he clapped a hand over his mouth and curled in protectively on himself, suddenly shy.

"Don't worry, you'll warm up," Bucky teased, voice low as he circled back around to the foot of the bed and grabbed one of Steve's ankles in each hand. With a little shake of encouragement, he got the taller man to straighten his legs out before he climbed up onto the bed and kneeled over him, straddling Steve's thighs.

Bucky hummed appreciatively to himself as he idly stroked his chin with his right hand, his left supporting his right elbow while he examined the man sprawled haphazardly beneath him. Steve scowled, cheeks as flushed as ever. He'd gone partially soft again at the sudden temperature change, but he wouldn't be that way long with the way Bucky's gray eyes roved up and down his body.

"Like going to the museum," the ex-soldier murmured appreciatively as he took a long minute to admire the way the moonlight spilled over Steve's prone figure. It rendered the man's already fair skin pale as the finest marble, if marble were warm to the touch and pliant under his hand the way Steve was when he leaned down and trailed his fingers, feather light, down the man's abdomen.

He could feel the muscles tighten under his touch, but Steve reached down and grabbed his hand before he got more than a few inches past his navel.

"If you're trying to crack a joke about my age, Nat already beat you to the fossil section," Steve remarked with a snort, mouth twisting wryly.

Bucky rolled his eyes, because _of course_ Natasha would have called Steve a fossil, and _of course_ he would choose to remember that in the middle of someone trying to pay him a compliment.

"No," Bucky said as he reclaimed his hand, "I'm not trying to call you old, Rogers," he added with a low, throaty laugh that made Steve's heart leap in his chest.

Bucky dropped gracefully onto the mattress and draped the one half of his body over Steve's, then slipped his left arm under the blond's neck so he could lean over him. He used his right leg to haul the man in closer still, then reached up with his free hand to brush a few stray strands of pale hair from Steve's eyes, which had gone wide in surprise. They had turned a striking shade of silvery-blue in the moonlight, framed by those long lashes Bucky just knew Natasha was wildly jealous of.

The dark-haired man leaned in, then, and brushed his lips briefly against Steve's. He repeated the motion against Steve's cheek and ear before pulling back and saying, "I'm _trying_ to call you a goddamn work of art."

Steve's throat went tight at Bucky's words. Just what the hell did you even _say_ to that? 'Thank you' certainly didn't cover it, and there was no way he could possibly top that class of compliment.

Buck had always had a way with words.

So instead of speaking Steve opted to _show._ He reached up and wrapped his arms around the man draped across him, relishing the heat of Bucky's skin against his own when he pulled him in tight to his chest. Their lips collided and Steve took him hungrily, not waiting for an invitation to slide his tongue into the other man's mouth. He could feel the fingers of Bucky's left hand clutch reflexively at the pillow under his head as his right slid up his side to tease Steve's nipple again. The super-soldier bit Bucky's lower lip in his surprise at the sensation. He quickly planted a little kiss on it by way of apology before shifting to bury his face in Bucky's shoulder.

The former soldier could feel his friend saying something against his skin as Steve rolled them so he was on top, straddling one of Bucky's legs with his bare ones. He couldn't quite make out what it was until what had to be the third iteration when Steve nipped his earlobe and murmured, "I love you."

The words sent a little shiver down Bucky's back that made Steve grip him all the tighter as he kissed his way along his jaw.

"I love you," the blond repeated, quiet but emphatic, sealing the words with another kiss to the other man's bruised lips.

Steve sighed into Bucky's mouth as he dragged one broad hand down his ribs before slipping it under the man to grab his ass through his jeans, pulling a soft moan from his partner. The hand wandered around to the front and slid down to Bucky's knee, which Steve lifted in unspoken encouragement for the other man to loop it over his own.

Bucky obliged as he reached up and wound the fingers of his right hand into Steve's hair and used his hold to pull the man's head back, breaking their kiss and exposing his throat. He pressed his lips over Steve's fluttering pulse as the man fought to catch his breath.

"Say it again," Bucky whispered against his friend's pale skin as he let his grip loosen and slip down to cradle the back of Steve's head, thumb brushing the curve of his ear.

Steve smiled down at him, then, and waited until Bucky looked him in the eye before declaring, "I love you, James Buchanan Barnes."

The former soldier stared up at him for a long minute, and though it was hard to believe Steve was telling the truth each time he said it, Bucky simply had to accept that he wasn't dreaming. He really had heard him say the words, had watched them fall from the man's lips himself, and when Steve said something... he meant it.

Especially when he said it like that. His tone had been soft and reverent, and his sweet smile had reached all the way up to those blue eyes of his with their little flecks of green, lighting them from within. He said it like a promise that he would never stop, like there would never be a world where those words would not be true.

Bucky could only pull Steve in for another kiss, his throat too tight to say anything in response. This one was deep and demanding, almost needy, and was accompanied by an obscene roll of his hips that made the other man gasp against his mouth.

The shorter man raked his hands down Steve's back, eliciting something akin to a whimper from his friend before they came to a stop on his hips. Bucky pulled him in tight and ground mercilessly against Steve's cock, the fabric of his jeans chafing them both.

Growling quietly, the super-soldier reached down and fumbled with the buttons of Bucky's pants - but he couldn't quite manage them with how the man was driving him clear out of his mind through the way he was moving. Knowing Bucky was doing it on purpose, Steve bit the other man sharply on the lip again and demanded, "Take them off before I tear them off."

A short bark of laughter escaped Bucky and he said, "Hey, these are my favorite jeans, you know. They do great things for my ass."

"Yes," Steve replied, doing his best to sound bland, but completely failing as he pressed a kiss to Bucky's right shoulder, then bit down there as well, drawing a strangled cry from the man. "I _know._ "

Apparently done with his teasing, Bucky struggled to follow his Captain's orders. Still, the weight of Steve's body against his own was not only distracting, but blocked his efforts. Giving up, the ex-soldier pushed the other man off of him, then quickly undid the offending buttons and hauled the pants down his hips and tossed them aside. Sure, they did great things for his ass, but the fact that the jeans had four buttons instead of one and a zipper was a critical and heretofore unrealized design flaw in Bucky's book.

Steve was on him before his jeans even hit the floor.

"Christ," Bucky gasped and threw his head back as the other man covered him, pinning him to the mattress with the weight of his body, intent on learning every inch of Bucky's throat with his lips.

The sensation of Steve's bare skin against his was intoxicating, and Bucky couldn't get enough of it. He used his left arm to drag the blond in tighter against him while his right hand roved down Steve's back to his ass, which he grabbed a handful of and kneaded encouragingly. He could feel the man's breath catch in his chest, and Bucky was well rewarded when he began to rock his hips against him. The dark-haired man shivered as his movement sent Steve's cock sliding along his own to graze over his lower stomach.

Steve lifted his head from Bucky's neck, lower lip held between his teeth as he struggled to keep himself under control. The man beneath him watched, completely enthralled with how Steve's brow furrowed as he gasped as he rolled his hips, the long line of his powerful back moving in a mesmerizing wave under Bucky's hands.

The former soldier turned his head and pressed a lingering kiss to Steve's ear when the man let his forehead drop to press into the crook of his shoulder. The fact that _he_ was the one rendering Steve Rogers insensate with a few thrusts of his hips somehow aroused Bucky even further, and a moment later he rolled them over so he was on top once more. He slid down a ways so he could greet the exquisite expanse of Steve's chest once more, and smiled when he felt the man's fingers slide through his hair again.

The blond encouraged Bucky's attention to his nipples by adjusting his grip on the back of his friend's head and pulling him in a little tighter. The shorter man sucked a little harder, and the groan he got as a response encouraged him to slide his right hand down between their bodies to graze along the length of Steve's cock. Bucky grinned when his partner twitched, then thrust against his palm. He glanced up at the other man, but Steve's eyes were closed, lips moving soundlessly.

Figuring this was a good sign, Bucky abandoned the other man's chest and proceeded to kiss his way down Steve's impressive abdomen. The muscles flexed under his lips, and Bucky dragged both hands down to the man's hips, which he gripped tightly, pinning him in place.

"Jesus, Rogers, you're fucking gorgeous," he mumbled against the super-soldier's skin as he slipped his hands back up Steve's body to trace absently over his nipples and pressed a kiss to the groove of his hip.

"I-" Steve began, but seemed to lose his train of thought almost immediately, making Bucky smile again as he glanced up to catch the way the other man was struggling to keep a lid on it.

"You what?" he asked teasingly as he traced his tongue around Steve's navel the way he remembered from his vision of him in the shower, and let his hands rove freely across his chest and sides. The other man's hands were up by his head, though one or the other occasionally fluttered down to brush against Bucky's hair, encouraging him to linger longer in some places, use his teeth in others... The shorter man was too far down the bed now for Steve to reach much else.

"Hell if I know," Steve managed after a breathless moment in which Bucky finally pulled his mouth from his friend's skin and turned his attention to his cock.

He was fully erect, and twitched occasionally when Bucky's mouth found somewhere particularly sensitive on Steve's anatomy. He was an impressive size - though nothing ridiculous, the ex-soldier was vaguely relieved to notice. Bucky wondered absently if he'd be able to take the full length of him in his mouth, then figured that there was no time like the present to find out.

The sudden lack of teasing lips on his heated skin made Steve open his eyes and glance down to find Bucky regarding his dick as though it were some particularly enticing challenge.

Flushing crimson, Steve struggled to speak coherently. "Buck, you don't...I mean, it's our-"

Bucky just glanced up and gave him a look that said ' _Shut up, Rogers,'_ before he lowered his head and ran his tongue up the length of Steve experimentally.

"I don't want you to-" Steve gasped and threw his head back at the sensation of Bucky's hot, wet tongue on his shaft.

The words immediately brought Bucky to a halt, however, and he looked up at Steve, concern furrowing his brow.

"Too much?" he asked seriously, lifting his head, "We can stop, Steve."

A weak laugh escaped the blond and he said "No, I just-" how did Bucky always manage to do this to him? Make it so he couldn't string a damn sentence together… it just wasn't fair. "What I was _trying_ to say, is that _you_ don't have to um-" he glanced meaningfully southward, and Bucky arched an eyebrow at him, lips pressed together in an attempt to repress a grin. "It's our first time, you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," Steve rushed to finish before he lost it again.

The pair shared a look, and then Bucky snorted. "Oh, is that all," he said casually. Before Steve could make any sort of reply, he lowered his mouth over the man's cock again and gently slid his lips over the tip. Bucky lathed his tongue idly over the mound of flesh, ears perking up at the muffled groan that escaped his partner. He'd never given a blow job before, but he knew what _he_ liked, so surely he was several steps ahead of your average woman attempting the same thing for the first time.

Feeling more confident, Bucky slowly took Steve further into his mouth, then slid back up, and further down again. Steve's hips jerked, driving his cock deeper yet into the other man's mouth, nearly making him gag at the suddenness of it.

"S-sorry! Sorry… fuck," the blond gasped, and it took everything Bucky had not to laugh.

"Language, Steve," the dark-haired man teased him as he released him from his lips and grinned wickedly up at him. "Not your first time, is it?" he asked, mostly teasing, but then it occurred to him that maybe it really _was_ Steve's first time.

Steve scoffed and glared down the length of his impressive abdomen at the other man. "Why do I keep having to tell people that I'm ninety-seven, not _dead,_ " he grumbled.

Bucky did laugh, then, and something in him he hadn't realized had tensed relaxed in his chest. He was already unsure enough of himself when it came to pleasuring a man without it also being that man's first time ever being pleasured.

"Must be the way you blush like the Virgin Mary when someone so much as winks at you," the dark haired man remarked lightly as he shifted so he sat on his knees.

"I do not!" Steve objected. He went to say more, but Bucky rolled his eyes and simply went down on him again, and a groan of pleasure replaced any further complaints.

Bucky grabbed Steve by the thighs and spread his legs further, but the blond barely noticed. His friend's mouth was blissfully hot and slick, and the way his tongue slid against his cock should probably be illegal. Well, it _had_ been illegal back in the day, Steve thought giddily, back arching convulsively when the other man's teeth grazed lightly across his skin.

Without thinking, he reached out with one hand and found the back of Bucky's head again, his other fisted in the sheets under them. Steve gripped his friend's silken hair and pushed him down further until the head of his cock almost hit the back of his throat, eliciting an incoherent noise of pleasure from the blond. He realized almost immediately, when Bucky carefully exhaled through his nose against Steve's skin, that he was probably pushing him too far, too quick.

"Sorry," he apologized again, forcing his hand away, "You just feel so damn good," Steve admitted, embarrassed, fingers moving to run furtively through his own hair, blue eyes heavily lidded.

Bucky didn't say anything, but he could feel his lips pull into a smile against his skin, and Steve felt compelled to look back down at the man and watch as he lifted his head again, and took a moment to catch his breath. The other man brushed a few hanks of his long, dark hair back behind his ear, then took him down to the base, and Steve could feel that telltale ache begin to build in earnest as he watched his best friend go down on him.

Bucky's tempo increased, and Steve found himself thrusting his hips in time with the man's movements, and he knew he was on the brink. He was nearly sent right over the edge when Bucky's right hand slipped down between his thighs and began to work his balls as well. Knowing well what was about to happen, Steve clamped his thighs down on Bucky to stop the man from finishing him off, then quickly and desperately dragged him up into his arms again.

"Not yet," Steve panted as he claimed Bucky's lips with a kiss, "I want-" he began, but became distracted with the kissing once more, coherent thought fleeing before the sensation of Bucky's weight in his arms, and the taste of himself in the other man's mouth.

"What do you want?" Bucky asked and ran his tongue along the blond's jaw and slid his arms tightly around Steve, unable to help but thrust his hips against the warmth of the blond's sweat-slick skin.

He found, with a quick adjustment of his hips, that he could slide his cock down between Steve's thighs towards his ass, which startled a particularly loud moan from the man. The blond spread his legs wider and rolled his hips, encouraging this new avenue.

"Buck, I want you to fuck me," Steve said a moment later, voice suddenly shy, but tinged with desperation. His eyes were closed, though whether it was out of passion or embarrassment not even he could say.

"Thought that's what I was doing," Bucky said and kissed the man fervently.

When they broke for air, though, Steve forced himself to look at the man in his arms and admit, "No, I mean...I mean I want you to _fuck_ me," he said, eyes darting away shyly, cursing mentally as he began to blush again. Bucky was right, he really _did_ blush like a damn virgin.

" _Oh,_ " Bucky said, pulling back a little to get a good look at the man under him. "I-" he began, but Steve cut him off.

"I mean, only if you _want_ to," the blond added hurriedly, once again worried that he was pushing too far, too fast. "I would just...really like it if you did," he admitted, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"If you don't stop acting like I don't want to fuck your goddamn brains out, Steve," Bucky growled, "I'm gonna-" he paused, then, not entirely sure where he had planned to go with that particular threat. It wasn't as though he were about to _leave_ after all, not now. So, instead, he said "Well I'm gonna fuck your brains out either way, so you may as well tell me which way you want it," with a wolfish grin. His expression softened a little after a moment, though, and he added, "If I'm not comfortable doing something, then I'll _tell_ you, right? And you do the same."

Steve nodded, taken aback by the other man's ferocity, then smiled and buried his face in Bucky's shoulder, taking a moment to simply hold him close and send up a silent, grateful prayer for the man in his arms.

Bucky pressed a kiss to his temple, then cleared his throat. "That said, I don't have any lube and..." here, his personal sexual experience came in use. "Well, uh, would you even be able?" Now he was the one stumbling over his words, and Steve was just watching him with a vaguely amused smile on his face. "Cuz I mean, with girls they've got to...work up to it," he finished lamely.

Steve looked thoughtful for a moment, then carefully disentangled himself from Bucky and leaned over the edge of the bed to root around in the bottom drawer of his night stand. The dark haired man leaned as well, curious as to what he was up to. After a moment, Steve dragged a box out from the back of the drawer, where it had been hiding under some rarely used sweaters, and flipped it open.

"Well," Bucky said, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the box's contents. Steve fetched out a bottle of lube, but it was the variety of toys that held his partner's attention. The dildos were obvious enough, but Bucky only recognized the plugs for what they were thanks to those helpful little links _someone_ on the team had been sending him the past couple of weeks. The ex-soldier turned his attention back to Steve, and saw the man watching him carefully for a reaction.

"That makes things a lot more straightforward," Bucky said as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. He could feel Steve relax against him, and knew the man had been worried about what he might say.

To be frank, he _was_ surprised. The idea of Steve being the type to use any of those things on himself was unexpected ( _he_ certainly wouldn't have put money on it), but also undeniably arousing. It was enough that Bucky was fully hard again in moments as he pushed Steve down under him. Their lips met again and the ex-soldier reached up to take the bottle of lube from his partner, who released it readily and turned his attention to exploring the hard lines of Bucky's chest with his hands.

Steve traced the seam where steel met flesh on Bucky's left shoulder, fingers light and curious. He'd tried before and the man had shaken him off, but now he didn't seem to mind. That or he was distracted enough by their current undertaking to not notice. The blond broke their kiss after a moment and leaned up to press his lips to the heavy scar tissue on one side, and then again to the expanse of metal on the other side of the seam. The juxtaposition of warm flesh and cool steel was a curious one, and Steve could feel a tremor ripple through Bucky in response to his careful attentions.

The former soldier remained silent, though, so Steve repeated the gesture a little further down until he had traced the entire seam along Bucky's pectoral. The super-soldier hadn't noticed how still his partner had gone until he finished and realized that the man had pressed his forehead into the crook of his shoulder, breathing shallow, almost labored.

"Bucky?" he asked, concerned.

Bucky just shook his head though, then turned to press a kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth. He couldn't find the words to express the myriad of emotions running through him in that moment, so he didn't try. Gratitude, love... relief that Steve apparently wasn't as disgusted as he was by the piece of Hydra tech that had replaced a vital piece of him against his will. His left arm represented seventy years of torture, pain, and death for Bucky, and it wasn't hard to become swamped by self-loathing every time he caught a glance of the thing. Every time Steve twined the fingers of his right hand with the mechanical ones of Bucky's left, though, and every time he pressed a little kiss to the crimson star branded on on his shoulder, he could tell that the super-soldier was trying to convince him that the arm was a badge of honor... a symbol of all he had survived and overcome. Bucky still didn't believe him, but maybe he would someday.

Bucky pushed himself into a seated position where he still lingered between Steve's thighs, then opened the squeeze bottle and poured a little of the viscous substance out onto his fingertips.

"So," he said, voice low and sultry as he reached down between Steve's legs and gently began to trace his opening, "Exactly how long has Captain America been playing with his ass, hm?"

A quiet whimper escaped the man under his hands, and Bucky smiled a little smugly as he watched Steve bite down on his lower lip to keep from crying out.

"Well?" he asked, still teasing lightly with his fingertips, pressing harder, but not yet entering the man.

"Buck, please," Steve gasped as he looked up at his friend with eyes that appeared almost feverish. He rolled his hips encouragingly, clearly hoping to make the ex-soldier slip up, but Bucky only withdrew his hand entirely when he wasn't given an answer. The blond growled at this unacceptable turn of events and surrendered immediately.

"I don't know, twenty-thirteen, I think?" he admitted vaguely, having trouble keeping his thoughts straight when he was rewarded for his compliance by the sensation of Bucky's fingers on him again.

He hummed pleasurably at the feeling and Bucky asked, "Three years?" seeming surprised that it had been that long.

Steve's blush was so bad that it was starting to creep down past his collarbone and over his pecs. "I haven't really been seeing anyone since I woke up," he admitted a little breathlessly. "And the internet is-"

"Vast? Terrible?" Bucky supplied as he pressed a little harder and then allowed one finger to slide slowly inside Steve, his attention fixated on the man's face.

"Eye o-ooooopening," the blond groaned at the sensation, head thrown back, dragging the vowel out.

Bucky had to agree to that, though he didn't think Steve noticed his nod. The other man's eyes had slipped shut, and his hands were fisted in the sheets beneath him. It was quite the sight to behold, and it took more self control than the former soldier cared to admit to allow his partner a moment to adjust. Steve did quickly enough, though, and Bucky could feel the other man take a breath and relax around him. The breathy little sigh that escaped his lips was too much for Bucky, and as he began to gently move his finger he shifted position so he was over Steve again, claiming his lips and delving deep into his mouth. The blond's hands shook a little as he lifted them and ran them restlessly through Bucky's hair and over his shoulders. An almost animal sound escaped him when the former soldier shifted so his hips pressed against his hand, driving his finger in deeper until he found the swell of his prostate and stroked it gently.

Steve muttered incomprehensibly to himself in what Bucky would swear was a garbled mix of English, French, and German as he buried his face in Bucky's shoulder and thrust against his hand.

"Jesus, Steve," the former soldier mumbled with a breathless chuckle, verging on overwhelmed as he rocked his hips so his cock slid between the other man's thigh and his own hand. Steve murmured something that sounded suspiciously like ' _je t'aime_ ' against his collarbone, then gasped when Bucky withdrew his finger.

Before the blond could so much as whimper at the loss, though, Bucky returned with two fingers and more lube and began to work him in earnest. Their breaths came hard and fast as they moved in perfect unison, Steve's calloused hands roving down the sweat slick skin of Bucky's chest, pausing to tease his nipples the same way his partner had his own, forcing the ex-soldier to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep from doing more than hissing at the contact. This only became more difficult when Steve leaned up and licked his way from Bucky nipple to jaw, savoring the salty taste of the other man's skin.

"You should-" the blond began, only for his words to break into a startled cry of pleasure when Bucky's fingers found his prostate again. "Not sure how much longer I can last," he panted helplessly.

Knowing full well what Steve was asking of him, Bucky dropped a kiss on the other man's lips, then pushed back off of him and withdrew the fingers of his right hand while his left quested once more for the bottle of lube. He found it a moment later and squeezed a healthy amount out onto his palm and gave his cock a few strokes to get an even spread. He had to bite down on his lip again as the slick sensation nearly sent him overboard.

"Barnes, I swear, if you get off without me-" Steve threatened, voice low and rough as he clamped his legs tightly around the other man's hips.

Bucky opened eyes that he hadn't even realized had shut, and regarded his partner as the blond glared up at him. "Wouldn't dream of it," he said roughly as he leaned over Steve again, positioning his hips between the man's thighs so the head of his cock just grazed over his entrance. He slipped his left arm under his partner's head again and pulled him in close so he could murmur directly in his ear. "Like I'd pass up a chance to cum in that tight ass of yours."

The words pulled a husky, surprised laugh from Steve that made Bucky's cock twitch. The taller man slipped his hands down his friend's back until he reached his ass and pulled him in tighter yet before grinding his hips torturously against the man on top of him. Bucky could feel the hard press of Steve's cock as it slid against his belly and moaned into the man's shoulder as he bit down on the muscle there.

"Hate to break it to you, Buck, but you've been passing up chances to do just that left and right for the last two weeks," Steve growled directly into the other man's ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and nipping it sharply.

Bucky practically whimpered at the sensation and released his teeth's hold on Steve's shoulder to admit, "I know. I know. I just… fuck, I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to fuck everything up. Wanted it to be perfect, 'cuz that's what you deserve," in a quiet, desperate murmur.

"Buck," Steve said, touched by the sweetness of the sentiment. He should have known it would be something like that, really. Bucky Barnes was willing to wing a great many things in life (he was practically a professional at flying by the seat of his pants), but his romantic conquests had never been one of those things. Not when he was serious about the dame, anyways. Of course he'd want to be as prepared going into it with Steve. It was new territory for both of them, but particularly so for Bucky.

Steve might have said more, but Bucky chose that moment to reach down between them with his right hand to carefully position himself over the blond's entrance. He pressed forward gently and slid inside Steve with an almost agonizing slowness.

A soft, drawn out 'ah' escaped the super-soldier, and his hands on Bucky's hips pulled him in until he'd taken the full length of Bucky's cock inside of him when the former soldier might have otherwise paused halfway to give him a moment to adjust.

"Jesus Christ, Steve," Bucky gasped as he fought his instincts for control, eyes closed and brow furrowed at the heat and pressure of the man wrapped around him. It was unbearable in the very best of ways, and it took everything in him not to fuck the man under him senseless without giving him a moment to adjust.

"Will you-" the blond began, torn between annoyance and laughter as he tried to speak again. "Will you quit being so damned sacrilegious?"

Bucky lifted his head from where he'd buried it in Steve's shoulder, and looked down at the man from under his lashes. His friend looked completely wrecked, color high in his cheeks, golden hair wild from both their hands running through it. He must have felt Bucky's eyes on him, as Steve's own fluttered open a moment later to see the man smirking down at him.

"What can I say? You just feel too good," Bucky said as he gave his hips a slow, experimental roll that made Steve writhe and clutch desperately at him. The motion left the ex-soldier breathless, but after a moment he continued, voice low and rough, "God, so good, Steve. So good you drive a man to blasphemy."

He thrust his hips again, a little harder this this time, cock slipping out an inch or two before sliding back into that sweet, agonizing heat once more. He relished the sound of Steve's labored breaths as the man threw his head back, a low groan escaping from between his tightly clenched teeth.

Bucky was grinning wildly now, and he knew it was wicked of him, knew it would probably land him on a very specific list for a very special level of hell, but he asked it anyways: "You gonna pray for me, Steve?"

Steve's blue eyes flew open and he met his partner's gaze. The scandalized expression on his face made Bucky laugh deep in his chest as he started a slow, rhythmic motion with his hips that threatened to send Steve's eyes rolling right back in his head.

Bucky pressed a kiss to the corner of the blond's jaw, then lingered by his ear and murmured, "Gonna pray for this sinner's soul?" and raked his free hand down his friend's chest to his thigh, which he grabbed and used as leverage to push a little deeper.

"I- _oh_ ," Steve gasped as he began to carefully rock his hips in counterpoint to Bucky's. The sensation of the other man's cock moving in him was sheer bliss, and made it difficult for the super-soldier to focus. Eventually, though, he managed to say, " _S-someone_ has to."

"Better start now, then," Bucky said with a slow smile and kissed his way down the blond's throat. "I've been a very bad man, Steve."

Oh yes, James Buchanan Barnes was going to a _very special_ hell.

"Bucky," Steve tried to growl in warning, only for the other man's name to cut off in a strangled cry when the ex-soldier pulled out unexpectedly, leaving the blond aching and empty. "Wait-"

The dark-haired man smirked and sat back on his heels as Steve shot him an offended look at the way he had left him wanting. Before the super-soldier could complain further, though, Bucky took him by the hips and encouraged his partner to turn over onto his stomach with firm hands. Steve complied, blushing furiously as he allowed Bucky to guide his movements.

The ex-soldier went up onto his knees, then pulled Steve's hips up into the air towards him as he said, "I know you know the words," and pressed against him again, drawing a little whimper from his partner. "You used to say them every night before bed," Bucky insisted as he leaned forward and gently ran his hands from Steve's shoulders down to his hips, then up his sides and back down over his pecs and stomach. He leaned over further then and pressed a kiss between the blond's shoulder blades as his right hand found the rigid length of the man's cock and grasped it at the base. A visceral groan escaped Steve then, and he ground back against Bucky in a hopeful way.

"I want to hear you say them," Bucky said in a growl, tightening his hold on Steve's dick and giving him a few slow strokes of encouragement.

Steve lowered his shoulders so he could bury his face in the mattress for a moment, taking deep, shuddering breaths as he trembled under Bucky's hands. Heaven above, he was going to do it.

"O-Our Father, who art in heaven," he began, and he could practically _feel_ Bucky smile behind him. It was well worth the sacrifice, though, when the former soldier shifted, then slipped his cock into Steve's ass once more. " _Fuck_ ," he swore quietly and bit down on the knuckle of his thumb to muffle himself when Bucky began to move again.

The ex-soldier gave Steve's hip an encouraging squeeze as he pushed in deeper. He would have made a comment on not remembering _that_ particular part of the prayer, but his friend chose that moment to start rocking his hips back into Bucky's thrusts, and his clever comeback was forgotten in the face of the pleasure that threatened to swamp him. Still, he waited to thrust until Steve continued.

"Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, th-thy will be done...on Earth as it is in Heaven," Steve continued breathlessly, eyes shut tight as he fought to remember the words he'd had memorized since childhood. No easy task when your best friend had started fucking you in the ass so hard you had to brace your hands against the headboard to thrust back in equal measure. Sweat trickled down the line of his back, and Steve shuddered when Bucky leaned down to lick along his spine, tasting him.

Bucky wanted to slow down, wanted to draw things out a little longer, but he didn't think he was going to manage, not with the sweet, shameless way Steve was stammering his way through the rest of the 'Our Father', interrupted by the occasional gasp or protracted moan that tore from his throat, sounding like music to the ex-soldier ears. He did, however, laugh when Steve said "And lead us not into temptation-"

"God, _way_ too fucking late for that," Bucky gasped as he released his hold on Steve's cock and used both hands to grab the man by the hips and slam into him with wanton abandon.

The sudden change in tempo made Steve cry out and nearly come then and there. He barely reigned in the impulse, though he knew it wouldn't be for long. He could feel that pressure rising as inexorably as the tide, the muscles of his abdomen tightening reflexively as he managed to gasp the final verse: "But deliver us from evil."

If the man put a little extra emphasis on the word _evil_ , Bucky was too distracted to notice as he gave one final thrust and spilled himself into Steve with an agonized cry. The man went rigid and clung to his partner's hips as though they were the only thing keeping him from flying apart at the seams as his orgasm roared through him, driving the air from his lungs until he abruptly sagged across Steve's back with a gasp. The aftershocks left him shuddering, but didn't distract him more than a moment before he was kissing the sweat slick expanse of his partner's shoulders and slipping his hand around to grab his cock once more.

The sensation of Bucky finishing inside of him had brought Steve to the very brink, so it didn't take more than a few quick strokes from the other man over the swollen, aching length of him before he was spilling himself into the palm of his partner's hand. Bucky hissed in pleasure as Steve tightened convulsively around him, and gave a few sharp thrusts of his hips that made the blond release a colorful string of swears that would have made his mother blush had she heard him (or had spoken German, for that matter).

With one final shudder, Steve collapsed onto his side, and Bucky went with him, boneless and trembling as they both lay there for a moment, sweat soaked and gasping for breath.

" _Amen_ ," Bucky said when he had managed to catch his breath, voice rough from exertion.

Steve snorted and elbowed him in the gut, making the man grunt and try to roll away, only to find his right arm still pinned under the larger man's body.

"You're horrible," the blond said bluntly, but Bucky could hear the smile in his voice and see the way his suppressed laughter shook his broad shoulders.

"Guess that means your prayer didn't work then," the ex-soldier said with a feigned sigh of disappointment as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the nape of his lover's neck. "Maybe you should try again?" he suggested slyly.

Steve _did_ laugh then, and sat up so he could turn and hit Bucky in the face with his pillow.

The shorter man sputtered at the unprovoked attack, and by the time he threw the downy cushion aside, Steve was already off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. Bucky sighed and flopped back onto the bed, glancing down at himself, feeling a sticky mess as he heard the shower kick on in the other room.

A moment later, Steve poked his head back through the bathroom door and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Well, are you coming or what?"

Bucky flashed him a smile and rolled to his feet. "That an order, Captain?" he asked as he sauntered towards him.

"It is if you plan on sleeping in _my_ bed tonight," Steve remarked drolly as he stepped aside to let him in.

"Yes _sir,_ " Bucky said and snapped the door closed behind them.

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 **Author's Note:** Only one chapter to go, you guys, can you believe it? What a ride it's been! Please make sure to leave a review if you enjoyed! This story may be wrapped up, but I DO have plans for sequels, so if you'd like to see them, make sure you keep reviewing so my muse sticks around!


	21. And Love Goes On

**Author's Note:** Welcome to the final chapter, everyone! I hope you enjoyed taking this fluffy, dramatic journey with me! More notes at the end!

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 **The Times They Are A-Changin'**

Chapter Twenty-One: And Love Goes On

It was almost nine in the morning before Steve stirred from his deep slumber. He came awake in stages, the warmth of the morning sunlight pouring in through his window and across his face the first thing he noticed. He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, silently cursing himself for not thinking to draw the curtains before getting into bed the night before.

Color bloomed behind his eyelids in increasingly vibrant phosphorescent bursts the longer he squinted, so Steve stopped and rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows. The change in position fetched his arm against something cool to the touch, and his leg brushed something warm.

The sensation gave Steve the push he needed to open his eyes, long lashes fluttering against the sudden influx of light. The sight that met them when he was finally able to focus, though, brought a smile to his face.

Bucky lay sprawled on his back beside him, chest rising and falling with the slow, even breaths of someone still deeply asleep. His right hand was shoved up under his pillow, and his left rested on his stomach under the blankets that were drawn nearly all the way up to his chin. The ex-soldier's dark hair was a veritable bird's nest, and the morning sun brought out warm, almost red undertones from among the wild strands that Steve had never noticed before.

Steve's fingers itched for a pencil, even a bit of charcoal to capture his lover's rare moment of absolute peace. His jaw rough with stubble, and cheeks flush from sleep, Bucky had never looked more beautiful to Steve than he did in that moment.

He tried to reign in the impulse, he really did, but Steve's muse was relentless when stirred, and it had been so very _long_ since he had last drawn…

Moving with every bit of stealth that working with the Black Widow had taught him, the super-soldier slipped out of bed and across the carpeted floor to his desk. He watched Bucky warily as he fished quietly through the top drawer and came up with an abandoned sketch pad he hadn't touched in an age, and, blessing of blessings, a pack of colored pencils.

They were the cheap sort, a joke stocking stuffer that Nat had given him at Christmas after she'd caught him making an effort to draw one night a week before. As he flipped to a blank page on the sketch pad, Steve's brow furrowed when he realized that that was the last time he remembered actually putting pencil to paper for more than the occasional doodle in the margins of his work notes.

He glanced up at his subject as he pulled out the first pencil, and his smile returned. Maybe he'd just needed to find the right inspiration.

The desk was placed at completely the wrong angle, so Steve brought his knee up and used it as a make-shift table to work on. Sleeping as deeply as he was, Bucky was a very cooperative model, doing little more than sigh occasionally as the minutes ticked past.

By the time Steve was putting on the finishing touches to the rough portrait, it was after ten, and he was well pleased with his work. The pencils were a far cry from the ones he normally preferred, but for light work such as this, they'd performed admirably. He'd used just about every color in the box in his pursuit of the soft, almost ethereal lighting that lit Bucky's features, leading Steve to use warm colors on the side of the man's face lifted to the sun, and cool blues with a hint of green on the other. He had drawn the swell of his friend's chest exposed, rather than under the blanket as it was in life so he could include the hard, crisp lines of his left shoulder in the picture. Black and gray, white and blue, plus a little hint of gold played sharp contrast to the softness of Bucky's peaceful, sleeping face. The top of the crimson star peeked out from under the line of the navy colored comforter that Steve had left as a half-finished suggestion of softness at the left side of the picture.

Smiling to himself, and satisfied in a way he hadn't been for quite some time, Steve glanced up at Bucky again for a final comparison. His pleasure faded a little when he saw that the former soldier's face had contorted itself into frown.

A quiet, pained sound escaped Bucky as he twitched, frown deepening before pulling back into a grimace. The man tossed his head to the opposite side, and the soft whir of machinery reached Steve's ears when his friend's left hand thrashed wildly out to one side, as though searching for something. A few words of Russian escaped the man in his sleep, but their meaning was lost on the super-soldier as he set aside his sketch pad on the desk and padded over to the bed. Not for the first time, he wished he spoke more than the handful of words and phrases he'd learned from Natasha to use when working with Bucky during his recovery months ago.

The ex-soldier was breaking out in a sweat now, his entire body rigid as he curled in on himself, only to snap out straight again and throw his hands up as though fending off a blow.

Knowing better than to lay a hand on the man, Steve said in a low, soothing tone "Bucky? Bucky wake up, it's okay, it's just a dream."

The sound of his voice seemed to help a little, as after an initial twitch, Bucky's thrashing died down some.

"Come on back to me, Buck," Steve coaxed gently as he sat on the edge of the mattress. "You're alright. You're safe."

Bucky's brow furrowed, and this his eyes fluttered open, squinting painfully against the sunlight.

"Stevie?" he croaked, voice rough, expression confused as he struggled to focus on his friend.

"Stevie? You haven't called me that in years, Buck," the super-soldier said with an amused snort, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "Not since we were boys and I finally got so sick of it I decked you for it," he added with a light chuckle as the memories returned full force.

Bucky and Steve had known one another for longer than either cared to say sometimes, and though he'd never admitted it as a boy (even to himself), Steve had been envious of Bucky growing up. How could he not be? Bucky had been everything Steve wasn't: strong, healthy, and good looking with easy manners that put him in the good graces of just about everyone whose path he crossed. If he hadn't been so damn _good,_ so genuine and honest and full of life, Steve probably would have hated him. It didn't hurt that Bucky had been one of the few to always treat him as an equal, never talked down to him despite his physical frailties. Not that he hadn't ever worried over him. Bucky had fussed worse than his mother more often than not, especially after she had died, but he'd never treated Steve as being _less_ than him because of it.

So, instead of bitter rivals, the pair had become the best of friends.

There had been one habit, though, one little nickname Bucky had for him when they were little that had driven Steve right up the wall. The other boy had known he hated it too, but then he'd always delighted in winding Steve up. _That_ much had never changed at least.

He'd called him Stevie.

Even Steve's mother didn't call him that, and Steve wasn't about to take that from some gap toothed abercrombie, even if he _was_ his best friend.

So, when he was nine years old, and Bucky had used the hated nickname just one too many times that sweltering summer afternoon, Steve had hauled off and punched the other boy right in the mouth. He'd gashed open his knuckles on Bucky's teeth for his trouble, but he'd also knocked out the boy's right front tooth, something that he'd felt a little flash of pride for until he saw the tears welling in Bucky's wide gray eyes.

He'd apologized immediately, feeling horrible, like the lowest of the low as his friend tried to muffle his cries with a hand to his mouth while Steve fretted. Eventually, the pain had receded enough that the older boy could lower his hand, and Steve flinched in unison with him as Bucky traced the hole in his grin with the tip of his tongue.

" _I'm sorry,"_ Steve had said for the umpteenth time, sounding miserable as he stared at his friend with big, sad blue eyes.

Bucky had just shrugged, trying to play it off for the sake of looking tough as he wiped his nose on his sleeve like he got teeth knocked out every day. " _S'alright."_

" _You can...you can call me Stevie if you want,"_ Steve had said, willing to give up even that little scrap of pride for the sake of his friendship. In that moment, he would have done just about anything the other boy asked of him to make up for it.

In retrospect, it spoke volumes for Bucky's character when he just shrugged again and said " _Nah. 'Reckon you've about outgrown it anyways,"_ and flashed him a holey grin, only to flinch when it became obvious that Steve had succeeded in splitting his lip as well.

Steve's laugh had been lloud and a little wet as he sniffled and said, " _Alright. Come on, if we hurry we can get cleaned up at my place before Mom gets home and lectures the blue bejeezus out of us again."_

"No. No, you're not Steve. Who are you?"

Bucky's words in the present dragged Steve from his fond memories and made him look at the man sharply, brow furrowed in concern.

The ex-soldier's expression had turned from confusion to fear as he looked around the room, seeming lost.

"Bucky," Steve said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing as his heart began to pound alarmingly in his chest.

"Where am I? What's-" Bucky began as he pushed himself upright in the bed and pulled away from Steve as the blond reached for him reflexively. He caught a look at his left arm then, and a quiet, choked cry escaped him. "What is this? What's going on?" he demanded, voice shooting up an octave and descending into outright panic as he gasped "Why can't I feel my arm?"

"Bucky, calm down, take a deep breath, everything's gonna be okay," Steve insisted carefully, heart aching as the fingers of his friend's right hand scrabbled uselessly against the hard metal surface of his left arm and shoulder, as though he thought the limb were simply an armor he could peel away, exposing the skin beneath.

It hurt to watch. It'd been some time since he'd last witnessed Bucky lose time like this; forget when and where he was. He'd never seen him thrown so far back in his memories, though, and somehow this was so much worse than having to contend with the Winter Soldier.

Worried he might hurt himself, Steve grabbed Bucky's face and cradled it in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. The man's eyes were wide and frantic as they finally looked at him. _Really_ looked at him.

"You're James Buchanan Barnes, and I _am_ Steven Grant Rogers, Bucky. I'm also Captain America, and we both work with the Avengers. It's twenty-sixteen and this is my bedroom at the Avengers compound in New York," Steve rattled off the facts without really hearing himself as he searched the other man's eyes for some sign of recognition. "Do you remember? I'll go on all day if I need to."

Bucky blinked, and something shifted; it was like some part of him snapped back into place under Steve's hands.

"I remember," Bucky said breathlessly as he sagged bonelessly in Steve's grip. "Shit, yeah...I remember," he repeated as he lifted his right hand and dragged his shaking fingers restlessly through his knotted hair.

A sigh of relief escaped Steve then, and he dragged Bucky in against his bare chest for a hug.

"Jesus, Buck," the super-soldier murmured into the other man's hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of his head and held him tight.

"Now who's being sacrilegious?" Bucky muttered, but allowed Steve to coddle him, even buried his face in the other man's chest.

"Pretty sure God will forgive me considering the scare I just had," Steve countered with a huff, then loosened his hold on the man in his arms and pushed him away, just a little, so he could get a good look at him. "You sure you're alright? You haven't lost time like that in awhile. Any memory gaps?" the super-soldier asked, falling seamlessly back into habit formed months before when Bucky losing track of when and where he was had been a regular occurrence. "What did we do yesterday?"

The question had always been his go-to when it came to assessing Bucky's state of mind, but Steve had forgotten to take into account their rather more exciting than normal evening the night before.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Besides fuck Captain America senseless?" he asked, then looked up as though he were still thinking on the matter as a strangled sound escaped Steve. "Kicked ass at monopoly, chatted with Wanda, put the fear of God in Lang."

Steve shoved him, and Bucky fell back against his pillow, grinning wickedly at the blush that had settled across his friend's face.

"You're horrible," Steve declared for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Bucky just snorted and tugged on the other man's wrist hard enough that he toppled over on top of him. Steve managed to catch himself on one elbow, bringing him nose-to-nose with a decidedly smug Bucky Barnes.

"And yet you _still_ love me," the ex-soldier pointed out as he reached up and ran one hand absently through the other man's hair. "What does that say about you?"

"That I've lost my mind, clearly," Steve drawled even as he leaned in closer so his lips grazed, feather light, across Bucky's.

"Clearly," Bucky agreed with a smug smile, then sealed the declaration with a kiss.

 **To Be Continued in Part Two:  
No Civility in War**

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 **Author's Notes:** Ah, thank you so much everyone for all your support and reviews as I wrote this. Those of you who took time to leave comments along the way really helped me keep going, and now I've finally actually finished a story! This wound up being much longer than I intended when I first began it, and I particularly want to thank my beta, Nighttimelights for editing such a large chunk of it for me!

But yes, I do have a sequel (multiple actually, but we'll see) planned as mentioned above! It will be in a slightly different style than this one. It is essentially a rewrite of Civil War to make canon fit with my fic in preparation for the part I have planned after that, so I'll only be writing key scenes, rather than the entire movie. That way we can get on to more original story content rather than rehashing a movie we've already seen (not that those aren't fun, just not what I have planned lol).

See you in part two, and consider dropping a review of this fic to help inspire me to write, yeah? ;D


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